Hide And Seek
by Athena Alexandria
Summary: AU. High school sweethearts Jack and Kate have their future planned, until a tragic accident threatens to tear them apart. They decide the only way to stay together is to run, but how long will it be before the past catches up with them?
1. Chapter 1

Here we go again... ;)

Since the only specific preferences I got were for the young Jate one, and since I've got a better idea of how the plot is gonna go (and be original) here is the first chapter. I got the idea from a telemovie of all places -- it was on really late, so I only saw about two scenes, but it was enough to send my imagination racing. I wasn't sure how to write the summary without giving away the twist I've got planned, so I just left it kind of vague. I figure most of you know to trust me by now. ;)

As for the flashforward fic, I'll get to it eventually, although it does have something that should be pretty unique -- Sam as an obstacle to Jate... ;)

* * *

Chapter 1. Suburban Warfare 

"Kate… Hey, Kate," Jack said, nudging his girlfriend where she sat doubled over the desk with her head in her arms beside him.

"Huh? What?" she stammered, jerking upright, forcing him to jump back to keep from being struck by one of her elbows.

"You were asleep," he told her, letting out a soft chuckle when she blinked at him, rubbing her face with the heel of her hand, her sea green eyes travelling around the lab in confusion.

"No, I wasn't," she insisted, but she glanced down, self-conscious, when he said, teasing her, "Yes, you were – I think you got some drool on your notebook," earning himself hard slap in the bicep when she realised that he was just making fun of her.

"Where's everyone going?" she asked, still wearing a slight smirk, as she watched their classmates gather up their belongings and file out the door.

"Last period's over, Kate – everyone's going home," he reminded her, and she blushed, embarrassed.

"Okay, so I _was_ asleep," she admitted, closing her own books, and stretching as she stood, following him out into the corridor. "What'd I miss?"

"Just the cheat notes for the exam," he assured her, grinning as his words had the desired effect of halting her in her tracks, wiping the smile from her face, her freckles standing out against her cheeks as they went pale.

"You're kidding, right?"

His intention had been to make her sweat until he dropped her off, but the panic in her voice was so genuine that he found himself caving. "Here," he said, sliding the copy of his notes he'd made for her out of his notebook, and handing it to her. "I've got your back, remember?"

"Thank you, Jack," she agreed in a sweet voice when she saw what it was. "You're my hero." She skimmed over the paper in her hand, taking note of its contents, before tucking it between the pages of her textbook, and beaming at him. "I knew there was a reason I keep you around."

"Oh, really? And here I was thinking it was because of this," he teased as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in for a long kiss in spite of the groans and the cat calls he could hear coming from behind them.

He kept his arm around her when he released her, going with her to her locker, before stopping by his.

But while it wasn't unusual for her to want to be close to him, resting her head on his shoulder, he couldn't help noticing how much she seemed to be relying on him to support her weight.

"You feeling okay?" he asked her as they made their way across the football field to where his car was parked. "You've been kind of out of it all day."

"Yeah," she agreed with a heavy sigh. "Just tired. I didn't sleep well."

"Any particular reason?" he asked, bristling when she lifted her head, giving him a "You-know-what-I-mean" look.

"Did he…? Did he try something?" he pressed when she didn't elaborate, feeling his stomach tighten with fear and revulsion; he hated the idea of her trapped in that house, but he was powerless to change it, at least until they both graduated. Or turned eighteen. He didn't know if he could wait until the end of the school year; anything could happen to her in that time.

"No, but I think he was thinking about it," she confessed with a slight, almost imperceptible, shudder, and his fear was replaced with muted rage as he wondered whether it would be possible to go over there and sort her stepfather out without getting arrested. "If he ever thinks about anything. He had that look…"

"Which look?" he prompted, even though he knew it only too well.

"The one that makes me wanna hurl."

He could see how unsettled she was, so, wanting to keep the conversation light, he said, "Does he have a look that _doesn't_ make you wanna hurl?" succeeding in getting her to crack a smile.

"I can't help it – he's just so…"

"Wayne?"

She joined in his laughter, but he could hear the sadness in her voice as she said, "Yeah." He was no Sam; that was for sure.

They had almost reached the car by then. "Well don't worry – it won't be for much longer," he reminded her, cupping her jaw with his palm, lifting her chin when she stared down at the ground. "We're gonna finish high school and get as far from him – and this place – as we possible. We'll go to college, get married…"

"Have babies?" she teased him, like she always did whenever the subject of their future came up, and he laughed, kissing the tip of her upturned nose with an affectionate smile. He loved seeing her so excited and happy, about anything, even something he still wasn't sure about.

"As many as you want," he agreed, "Just not for about ten years."

"Five," she bartered with an impish grin, making him chuckle.

"Eight. That way we'll both be finished college, and I'll be finished med school."

It was a well-worn routine now, and somehow, even though she tried to talk him down to something sooner, they always seemed to settle on eight. They would both be twenty-five then, which seemed like the right age: young, but not _too_ young. There was never a question of whether or not they'd still be together then.

"It'll all work out – you'll see," he told her, hitting the button on his keys to unlock the doors. "It's gonna be great."

* * *

Kate didn't want to go home until she could be sure that her mother would be there, so, since Jack couldn't take her back to his place, they drove around for a while, spending an hour at the diner going over his notes, and another hour working up to saying goodbye, before he dropped her off in front of her house.

His parents were finishing dinner when he passed them on the way to the stairs, sighing when he heard his mother call out to him.

"Jack? Where've you been?" she asked him when he poked his head into the dining room, steeling himself for a lecture. It was the only way his parents seemed to know how to talk to him these days. "I thought you said you'd be home for dinner tonight."

"Something came up," he explained, ignoring the first question, determined to avoid the specifics of where he'd been, and who he'd been there with, but his father, who'd been silent up until that point, decided to answer for him.

"He was with that Austen girl again," he told her, his clear blue eyes never leaving Jack's, assuring him that he wasn't as clever as he thought he was.

"She has a name, Dad – Kate," he shot back, his temper flaring at the dismissive way his parents spoke about her; the same way she spoke about Wayne; refusing to believe that she could ever be good enough for him.

"Her_ name_ is not the issue here, Jack," his father continued, and Jack sighed, forcing himself not to storm out to his car and take off for the rest of the night. It was tempting, but it wasn't the way to show them that he was old enough to make his own decisions.

"I know you want to help her, and that's noble, but – and I only say this because I worry about you, Jack – you're too close to her to see that she _is not_ a good influence on you. Your grades are slipping, you're staying out until all hours of the night… lying about where you're going… that's not you, Jack. That girl's whole family is trouble – it's only a matter of time before she drags you down too."

It was the same speech he'd been getting since he brought her over for dinner and announced that they were dating; while his father had the tact – or the cowardice – to wait until Jack took her home to express his disapproval, his coldness towards her had sent a clear enough message, and ever since, she'd refused to come back while his parents were home since.

"And when she does, you won't be there – got it," he finished, having learned it by heart, starting up the stairs without another word.

He could hear his parents debating whether or not they should revoke his car privileges in the hopes forcing him to obey them, but he didn't wait to hear what they decided, shutting himself up in his room.

He wasn't going to let that stop him from seeing her; already, he thought as he dropped his backpack onto the floor, rescuing his homework, college couldn't come fast enough, though he couldn't help wondering how long it would take his father to start using that as a weapon.

* * *

He was still sitting at his desk at midnight, contemplating getting up early to finish it, when he heard a soft rap on his window; poking his head out into the hall to make sure it hadn't disturbed his parents, he opened the shutter to find Kate crouched in the tree outside. She never used the front door, not while there was a chance that someone other than him would answer it.

He couldn't see her very well in the darkness, but her eyes glistened if she'd been crying, and when he reached out to help her in, he could feel that she was shaking, in spite of the warm air.

It wasn't until she dropped down from the window ledge, onto the carpet in front of him, that he registered the ugly black bruise forming at the corner of her mouth, her bottom lip split and bleeding as if someone had just hit her there.

"Jesus, Kate – are you okay?" he asked, leading her over to sit on his bed while he tended to her, but he didn't need her to tell him how it had happened, because he knew. It wasn't the first time she'd come to him messed up like this, and it probably wouldn't be the last.

At least he was pretty sure that it wouldn't, until she lifted her pink-rimmed eyes to his with a look he'd never seen on her before, one of undiluted fury. "We have to kill him," was all she said, which was probably for the best, because he wasn't sure he could stand to hear any more.

* * *

Next chapter: Why does Kate want to kill Wayne? (I will tell you she's not pregnant this time!) ;) 


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the reviews. Not a lot of interest so far, but hopefully that'll change after this chapter, when a plot begins to emerge, and you all see this is not going to be some fluffy Mary Sue high school fic... ;)

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Chapter 2. Dead

As afraid as he was of Kate's answer, Jack's need to know what he was dealing with won out; after returning from the bathroom with a bottle of peroxide and a damp cloth, he knelt in front of her, taking both of her hands in his.

"What happened, Kate?" he asked her, ducking his head so that he could see her face, hidden by a curtain of messy curls. "Was it Wayne?"

She nodded, and he had to resist the urge to lift up her shirt and start checking for more serious injuries. The fact that she looked like she'd thrown it, and her jeans, on in a rush disturbed him no end; he forced the mental images out of his head as he waited for her to elaborate.

She seemed to sense what he was thinking. "He didn't…" she assured him, trailing off, and he relaxed a little, relieved that the worst hadn't happened to her. Yet.

"But he tried?" he guessed, confused when she shook her head. "So what did he do?"

"My mom…" she choked out, fresh tears spilling onto her cheeks, and the sick feeling returned to the pit of his stomach, his imagination taking this cryptic clue and running with it.

"But she's okay?" he prompted her, even though he wasn't so sure.

"She's in hospital," she explained, and he thought he finally understood what had happened, feeling oddly grateful that it wasn't her lying in her mother's place. He felt for her, but as far as he was concerned, it was her mother who deserved whatever she got for not getting the two of them out of there when it started. "She hasn't woken up… I tried to stop him…"

Her shoulders shook, and she started sobbing; he pulled her into tight hug, waiting for her to go limp against him before asking, "Is that why you said you wanted to kill him?"

"I need her, Jack," she whispered, her eyes wide and frightened when she lifted to her head. "She can't leave me alone with him…"

"Hey, it's gonna be okay," he told her, continuing to hold her, even though he had no idea how to make it true.

Tonight wouldn't be the first time Wayne had put her mother in the hospital and gotten away with it; if her condition was as serious as it sounded, there was a chance that Kate _would_ end up alone with him, at least until her mother recovered.

If she did.

"Why don't we go see her and find out what's happening? That way a _real_ doctor can fix you up," he suggested, pulling her up to her feet with him, but she gave him another timid look and shook her head.

"He's there now – he told them someone broke in, and they believed him. Can't I just stay here tonight? With you?" she pleaded, his heart breaking for her as she added, "I'll sneak out before your parents get up."

He wanted to argue that she didn't have to do that, but, afraid that his parents would step up their efforts to keep them apart if they found out she'd spent the night in his room, he nodded, returning his attention to her face.

Aside from stopping the bleeding, and cleaning the wound, there wasn't much he could do, so he gave her an icepack to help with the swelling, and a clean t-shirt to sleep in, and she crawled into bed, waiting until he was settled to curl into him.

Her body fit perfectly against his, as if they were two halves of the same whole; it was another sign that his parents were wrong, and that they were meant to be together.

"Thanks for having my back," he heard her mumble into his chest as he turned out the light, and then her breathing evened out and she was asleep.

* * *

She was gone the next morning when he woke up, the t-shirt he'd leant her draped over his chair, a scribbled note telling him that she'd gone to visit her mother before school.

"Late night, son?" his father asked when he dragged himself down for breakfast, slumping into his seat at the table, and he was afraid that he'd seen her, and was working his way up to confronting him about it, but a moment later, he went back to his paper without another word.

* * *

Jack waited by her locker as usual, but she didn't appear; homeroom came and went, followed by first period, without any sign of her, and he began to worry that she'd run into Wayne at the hospital.

He thought about cutting class to find her, to make sure that she was safe, but he didn't want to miss her if she came in late, so he spent the day watching the corridors, jumping every time the door opened, and he expected to see her red-faced and breathless, mumbling excuses before slinking over to the seat that he'd saved her.

* * *

Her mother's room was empty when he raced over there as soon as the final bell rang, and she wasn't in the cafeteria; when he checked in with one of the nurses, he was told that she'd gone home hours ago, but still, somehow, she'd never made it to class.

He tried to tell himself that it wasn't unlike her disappear for a day or two at a time after something like this happened, that she just wanted some time alone, but when he couldn't find her at the diner, or any of their usual haunts, his bad feeling grew, redoubling when he drove by her parents' place and spotted her bike on the ground, next to Wayne's truck.

She'd had it with her the night before; too agitated to waste time knocking, he stormed into the house, freezing when he heard raised voices coming from the direction of the bedrooms.

"Go on, off with you – you're worthless, just like your mother," he heard Wayne say; Kate must have ignored him, continuing with whatever she was doing, because a few seconds later, there was a loud _crash_ and he added, "Don't you walk away from me when I'm talkin' to you, girl – unless you want me to teach you some respect."

Her muffled cry was all the encouragement Jack needed; without stopping to think about what he was going to do when he got there, he sprinted down the hall, bursting into her room to find Wayne pressing her against the bookcase, seeming to enjoy how much power he had over her as she struggled to push him off.

"Let her go," Jack commanded with as much bravado as he could muster; her eyes slid over to him, and she slumped backwards as Wayne relaxed his grip.

"This the boyfriend?" he sneered, seizing him up with a look of disgust. "The hero who's gonna get you out of here? Who made you think you were too good for us?"

Jack's legs were shaking at having Wayne's full attention on him, but he forced himself to remain calm. "I _said_, let her go, or I'm calling the cops."

"Oh, you are, are you?" Wayne taunted him, making Kate cry out when he twisted her arm behind her back, pinning her by the throat, as if to remind him that he could do _anything_ to her in the time it would take Jack to get to the phone. "And I'll tell them you're trespassin', since I don't remember invitin' you in."

"I… invited… him," Kate choked out, fixing him with a defiant look, and this time, when he shoved her, Jack heard the audible _pop_ of her shoulder coming out of its socket.

Her howl of pain sent a flood of rage shooting through him; sliding out the metal baseball bat he knew Kate kept under her mattress, Jack swung it at him, succeeding in getting him to drop her when it connected with his ribs.

"That's it, you little bastard!" he snarled, clutching his side, advancing towards them when Jack tried to pull Kate towards the door. "I'm gonna kill your boyfriend, Katie!"

Seeing how serious he was, Jack shoved Kate behind him, urging her to run, but she wouldn't leave without him.

"Wayne, Stop it! Leave him alone!" she cried, but it was too late; before Jack had time to comprehend what was happening, Wayne's fist slammed into his face, sending him reeling backwards into her.

He managed to get in another blow of his own before he was knocked to the ground; he could hear Kate screaming as Wayne kicked him in the stomach and ribs; see her cradling her injured arm as she tried to get between them, but he threw her off, too enraged to listen to her.

Fumbling around for something he could use as a weapon, Jack's fingers closed around the handle of the bat; picking it up, he swung it as hard as he could, hitting Wayne in the back of the head.

With a startled grunt, he fell forward, beside him, and was still.

Kate crept back over to them then, kneeling beside her stepfather; closing his eyes, Jack exhaled slowly, letting his adrenaline levels return to normal, but his relief at winning the fight was short lived when he heard her cry out in horror.

"What?" he asked her, wincing as he forced himself to sit upright.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw what she was doing. Her good hand was on Wayne's throat, checking his pulse, her face whiter than he'd ever seen it as she whispered the words that would change their lives forever. "He's dead, Jack. Wayne's dead."

* * *

Next chapter: Oh my God, they killed Wayne... What're they gonna do now? (Review and you'll find out!) ;) 


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for the reviews (I see the title has clued some of you in to what I have in mind!). However, given that most people appear to be indifferent to this fic, and I'm not even sure how I feel about it, I'm seriously considering abandoning it in favour of the flashforward one. So if you care what happens, _please_ tell me (I promise it won't all be angst, and will have the usual twists and turns, including someone from Kate's past)... ;)

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Chapter 3. What're We Gonna Do?

_Dead._

The word resounded inside Jack's mind, turning his blood to ice. It wasn't possible. Wayne couldn't be dead, because that meant…

That meant he was a murderer.

"Are you sure?" he asked Kate, forcing himself up onto his hands and knees, and crawling over to them, hoping that she'd made a mistake. "Maybe you're not doing it right…"

"I _know_ how to check a pulse, Jack," she retorted when he shifted her fingers to one side, replacing them with his own. "Trust me."

The problem was that he did, it was just easier to convince himself that he didn't. That she was wrong. That the situation wasn't as bad as it seemed. "We have to call an ambulance," he told her, withdrawing his own hand when he came to the same conclusion as she had.

Wayne was dead.

Calling for an ambulance was the first idea that came to his mind, maybe because he'd spent his entire life around hospitals, but his conviction faltered when she shook her head.

"And then what? They'll call the police," she said.

The police.

Jack's stomach tightened, and he felt like he was going to be sick. "So we'll explain it was an accident," he insisted, refusing to let go of the vain hope that he could fix this. That he could make it okay.

But he couldn't. It would never be okay. Nothing would ever be okay again.

"We _killed_ someone, Jack – do you really think they're gonna care how it happened?" she argued, her voice rising as she grew more and more hysterical, and he had to remind her to keep it down. The last thing they needed was for the neighbours to hear.

"_We_ didn't do anything," he reminded her, trying to get her to calm down. He couldn't think straight with her so upset. "I _did_."

"So? That makes it even worse." She was near tears now. "You'll be eighteen in less than a month, and then you won't just be getting a slap on the wrist – you'll be going to jail. We both will."

"We're not going to jail, Kate" he assured her, with as much confidence as he could muster, "I'll call my dad, he'll bring in his lawyer… they'll straighten this out," but deep down, he wasn't so sure.

His parents had made their opposition clear from the beginning: even if his father agreed to help him, there were bound to be strings, and those strings were bound to involve her. He would finally have a reason to forbid Jack from seeing her.

"What about me?" she asked, her lower lip trembling as she slid to the floor, her back against the bed, drawing her knees up to her chest. "My dad doesn't have the kind of money yours does. I'll be lucky if he can even _afford_ a lawyer."

"He's not a monster – he's not gonna let them pin this on you," he argued, dropping back beside her with a groan, but he couldn't be sure of this either. His father could be surprisingly Machiavellian when it served his agenda.

"He will if it means keeping me away from you," she told him, everything about her projecting sheer misery as she trained her eyes on the body at their feet.

Wayne's face still wore an expression of pure malice, as if, like a villain in a horror movie, he would string up at any moment and resume his attack. That was the one comfort that Jack could take from what he'd done: his days of bullying Kate and her mother were over.

"So what do you think we should do?" he asked her.

"I think we should get out of here," she told him, her eyes wild and desperate as she struggled to her feet, and went after her backpack, abandoned on the floor where Wayne had grabbed her, various articles of clothing spilling out across the carpet. "I'm already packed – that's why I came back here. I was gonna take off for a couple of days. All we have to do is get some of your stuff, and we can go some place no one will ever find us."

It was a tempting suggestion, given the uncertain future they were facing, together, and separately, but Jack couldn't help noting the flaws in her plan.

"Look at us," he said, going for the most obvious, as he watched her brace her arm against her chest, stuffing everything back into her pack with her left hand. "Your arm's dislocated, and I'm pretty sure he broke some of my ribs. We're not gonna get very far without medical attention."

"I'm fine," she insisted, forcing a smile, but he could see that she was in a lot of pain as she hoisted it onto her good shoulder. Her eyes had that glazed look.

"Someone's gonna need to put it back, or it's just gonna get worse," he pointed out, and knowing that he had her there, she sighed, setting her backpack back down, and presenting her injured shoulder to him.

"You can do it."

"I'm not a doctor yet, Kate," he reminded her, wishing that she would stop forcing take on that role, but he could never get her to recognise that distinction.

"I trust you," she said, closing her eyes, and bracing herself, and he knew he was probably the only person in the world, her father included, who could boast to this.

"It's gonna hurt – a lot," he assured her, trying to convince her to change her mind and let him take her to the hospital, but she gave him a weak smile, keeping her eyes screwed shut.

"I can take it."

There was no arguing with her, so, before he could talk himself out of it, he took a deep breath, gritting his teeth as he grabbed her hand, and pulled upwards, applying pressure on her arm until he felt it lock back into place.

She cried out in pain, choking back a sob, and when she looked at him again, there were tears in her eyes.

"It's gonna start feeling a lot better now, I promise," he told her, giving her a brief, delicate hug, before returning his focus to her arm. "We need to take the weight off it – do you have anything we can use as a sling?"

"My mom has one from when she broke her arm," she said, with a hard look at Wayne, and he wondered if she felt as remorseful as he did. If anything, she seemed more concerned about the consequences than the fact that he was dead. It was a sobering thought.

"Do you know where it is?" he asked her, moving towards the door when she explained, but when she saw how much pain he was in, doubling over with his hand pressed to his side, she touched his arm, her eyes full of concern.

"I'll get it. You need to stay here."

He sank onto the bed with a grateful nod, trying not to jar his ribs, his eyes falling on Wayne as he waited for her to return. He still hadn't moved, but then, that wasn't all that surprising, considering…

Considering the fact that he'd killed him.

It all felt so unreal; he didn't even know how to being processing it. It wasn't like he had anything to draw on.

He helped her tie the sling, and then they sat down on bed, their sides touching, facing the body. He felt like they should do something with it, instead of leaving it lying there, out in the open, but he wasn't sure what, so he took a blanket from the end of the bed, and threw it over it.

"You really think my father'll let them punish you for this?" he asked her when an uncomfortable silence fell over them, the fleeting hope he'd felt before fading when she nodded.

"He hates me, Jack – you've seen it. Even if he doesn't, he'll send you away. We'll never see each other again," she told him, and he couldn't argue with her, because he knew it was true. His parents would make sure of it.

If they had too, they'd send him to Berkeley instead of Columbia, like they'd always planned, so that they could keep an eye on him. It would be years before he could track her down, and by then, it might be too late.

"I can't lose you too, Jack," she whispered after a moment, as if sensing that she'd weakened him, priming him to agree. "That's why we have to run – it's the only way we can stay together."

He wanted to tell her no, that it was hopeless, and stupid, that running would only ruin their lives, but he couldn't imagine his life without her, so he said, "Okay," regretting it before the word had even left his mouth.

* * *

Next chapter: The ever-resourceful Kate comes up with a way to dispose of the body, and they begin making preparations... ;) 


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks again to those who reviewed. :) However, since I wasn't bluffing last time, if reviews don't pick up, I'm going to start mailing the chapters out to everyone who does, instead of posting them here. So once again, if you feel any attachment whatsoever to this fic, and want it to continue, please let me know (likewise if you hate it): otherwise, you shouldn't mind the lack of updates. I get that everyone's busy, but if I can find time to write a chapter a day, and you can find time to read it, surely you can also spare a few minutes to comment once in a while. ;)

* * *

Chapter 4. Partners In Crime

"If we're gonna do this, we need to get moving," Kate said once it was agreed, jumping up from the bed, and disappearing back out into the main part of the house without another word.

Forcing himself to follow suit, Jack found her in the kitchen, tearing through the pantry, emptying its contents into a box at her feet.

"No one here'll need it," she assured him when he asked the obvious: why? "And we're gonna have to keep a low profile for a while, so at least this way we'll have some supplies."

She couldn't lift the box with her arm in a sling, so Jack picked it up for her, placing it on the table. She looked like she had a plan, so he stood back in a daze, watching her mutter to herself as she moved from room to room, adding blankets and camping equipment, and anything else she thought they might need, to the pile.

When she was done, he helped her load it all into the trunk of his car, and then they stood leaning up against the passenger's side, trying to figure out what their next move would be how be.

"We should do something about the… you know," Jack said, lowering his voice as he glanced around to make sure that no one listening, but they were alone. Too anyone passing by, it must look like any other suburban street; everything was still, too still, after what had just occurred there. "We can't just leave it there for anyone to find."

"We could burn it," Kate suggested, and Jack stared at her, horrified, until she added, "The house, I mean. Then it would just look like an accident."

While Jack had to agree with her that it was the most efficient way to dispose of the evidence, he couldn't help feeling that he'd let this go too far. He should call the police, and turn himself in, but he didn't. "We can't burn your house down, Kate," he argued. "What about your mom?"

"She's in a _coma_, Jack," she reminded him, her eyes filling up again, and as he let this sink in, he flashed back to the sight of her mother covered in bandages, hooked up to an array of machines. He hadn't paid much attention before, when he peeked into her room; he was too focused on finding Kate. "The doctors don't even know if she's gonna _wake up_, let alone be able to come home any time soon. And if she does, and Wayne's gone – she's not gonna care about the house."

"There're other things we can do, Kate," he told her, hissing and clutching his side as he jogged after her, across the yard, hardly able to believe the words he was saying. This morning, they were both high school students; now, they were partners in crime. "We could dump it somewhere – the ocean."

"And if you've ever seen a movie, you'll know it's bound to wash up, even if we try to weight it," she countered, fumbling through the bottom draw, her expression lighting up with triumph when she dug out a box of matches.

"So we'll sneak into the hospital and put it in the incinerator," he went on, thinking fast. That could work: when Wayne disappeared, everyone would just assume he'd gone on one of his cross-country benders. "They'll never find it."

"Too risky," she argued, the matches still clutched in her hand as she stalked back to her room. She gestured to her sling, then to him, still holding his side as he followed her. "Besides – we'll never be able to move it."

Shifting the box to her right hand, she took out a match, and after a few awkward attempts, managed to light it, but he caught her wrist before she could throw it.

"Have you lost your mind?" She was starting to scare him. He didn't understand how she could be so detached.

"No, but I think you have," she complained, struggling to free herself. "Everyone there knows you – if they see us, they'll tell your dad, and he'll figure out what we did."

With a violent jerk of her wrist, she managed to fling the match to the carpet; as it started to smoulder, Jack found that he couldn't bring himself to stamp it out, watching, hypnotised, as the flames spread.

"We have to go," she said, coughing, as she grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the room.

He didn't snap out of his daze until they were almost at the car, when she fished the keys out of his pocket, tossing them to him, and shoving him towards the driver's side.

"You have to drive," she told him as she clambered into the passenger's seat, bucking her seatbelt with one hand, and, tearing his eyes from her window, which still showed no outward signs of disturbance, he did, following the familiar route to his own house on autopilot.

"We only have about ten minutes before the neighbours call someone to put out the fire, so just get what you need," she instructed him as he killed the engine, and got out, stumbling up the drive.

He tried to pull himself together, to act normal, as he unlocked the door, heading for the stairs, but fortunately, no one was home; he thought about leaving his parents a note, telling them not to worry, but he didn't know what to write:

_Dear Mom and Dad,_

_Kate and I killed Wayne, and have decided to go on the run. I'll call you when we get settled._

_Love Jack._

Aside from being evidence, wouldn't that defeat the entire purpose of what she'd proposed?

No, it was ridiculous, he told himself as he threw some clothes and other bits and pieces into his backpack, and let himself out. You didn't tell your parents you were running away, you just did it, and waited for them to notice you were gone.

Kate was drumming her fingers on the console when he rejoined her, tossing his bag into the backseat, wearing a pair of dark shades as she listened to the news.

She looked so much like an amateur criminal that the sight would have been comic if he wasn't so disturbed by her borderline sociopathic behaviour, but as it was, he couldn't get his heart to stop hammering inside his chest. They were in the clear, but for how long? In spite of her insistence that they destroy the crime scene, he couldn't help thinking that they hadn't covered their tracks very well.

"So where to?" he asked her as he slid back into the driver's seat beside her. She was, after all, the one who wanted to run.

Without speaking, she snapped open the glove box, taking out the directory and flipping it open to a complete map of the continent. Squeezing her eyes shut, she let her finger hit the page at random, a small, strained laugh escaping her lips when she saw what she was pointing to.

"Mexico," she told him, and, the irony not lost on him, he turned the key in the ignition, gunning the engine as they headed for the interstate, leaving their lives, and everything they knew, behind.

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Next chapter, things settle down: Camping, and maybe even some fluff as Kate takes a look at Jack's wounds... ;) 


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for the reviews. I'm sorry I had to resort to threats and bribery, but I needed to know if I was wasting my time on this fic. Apparently I'm not, so that's good to know. :)

Oh, and I was thinking more Bonnie and Clyde (although there are parallels with the whole murder thing)... ;)

As promised, things settle down this chapter... For the time being. ;)

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Chapter 5. Nowhere Else I'd Rather Be 

The further away from L.A., and the "incident", as he'd decided to refer to it, that they got, the more surreal it became, and the easier it was for Jack to stop thinking about what had happened.

He was still with Kate, and that was all that mattered; by the time they crossed the border into Arizona, he even felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, when he realised that, for the first time in his life, he was in control. Never again would his father lecture him, or crush him with his oppressive rules and expectations: he could do whatever he wanted, with whoever he wanted, wherever he wanted.

It wasn't just liberating: it was exhilarating.

When no one came after them, and it looked like they were safe, Kate's mood lifted too, and he could convince himself that they were just going on a weekend road trip, like they always talked about, but were prevented from doing by his parents.

He'd withdrawn as much cash as he could from his accounts before leaving L.A., pooling it with what savings she had, but adamant about drawing as little attention to themselves as possible, at least until things settled down, they decided to camp the night in the desert, before continuing on.

By the time the tent was set up, Jack felt like his side was on fire, from under his arm, all the way down to his hip; lifting his shirt, he saw that his skin was marked with dark patches of purplish-red, each the size and shape of the toe of Wayne's boot.

Watching him from the other side of the campfire, Kate let out a sympathetic hiss, and before he knew it, she was kneeling beside him, motioning for him to help her take off his shirt, her smaller, more delicate fingers replacing his as she probed his ribs for breaks.

"What do I do? Should I bandage them or something?" she asked when she found a couple of suspect lumps, and he had to laugh at how naive and innocent she sounded, so unlike the girl who'd talked him into letting her burn her house down to cover up a murder.

"No, they'll be fine – I just need to keep from doing anything too strenuous for a while," he assured her, relieved that the old Kate had resurfaced from somewhere beneath all the trauma, and she relaxed.

"Good."

He expected her to return to her spot then, but she swung her leg over his so that she was sitting on his lap, sending a shiver through him as she traced random patterns across his bare chest.

In that moment, all of the tiredness, and the pain, and the emotional strain of the past twenty-four hours left him, and he remembered why he'd been so willing to go along with this plan in the first place. He could never imagine feeling the same rush of love, the same sense of completion that he found in her, with anyone else.

"So I guess that means we're gonna have to behave ourselves tonight?" she asked, playful, as she brought her good hand up to caress the back of his neck.

It was the first time an opportunity like this had presented itself, where they didn't have to worry about anyone catching them, but as much as it killed him to follow up on that, he had to agree.

"You need to be careful of that arm," he reminded her, but she wasn't done teasing him yet.

"You know, it gets pretty cold in the desert at night."

He wondered if she'd be this bold if she wasn't sure he was going to be a gentleman and turn her down. "And you think you have a solution to that?" he guessed, and she blushed, averting her eyes with a coy smile.

"Maybe. Why don't you come into the tent with me and find out?"

She was doing everything short of undressing in front of him, which he realised would have been a bit hard with only one functional arm, the thought sobering him, and bringing him to reality.

While he knew that he'd be lying if he said her awkward attempt at seduction wasn't having the desired effect on him, forcing him to use all of his willpower to keep from doing just that, he couldn't help thinking that there was some deeper motivation behind it, something more than just wanting to take advantage of their being alone.

"You know, Kate, you shouldn't feel like you have to do something like that to get me to stay with you. I want to be here," he told her, and she flushed again, crimson this time, at being caught out.

"I wasn't gonna…" she muttered under her breath, growing more and more flustered as she tried to smooth over her actions, "I'm on the pill, if that's what you're thinking…" starting to slide of his lap, but he tightened his arms around her to keep her from going to bed alone to avoid him.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her eyes damp when she looked at him again, her voice small and serious, clinging back with an air of desperation, as if she was afraid he'd get back into his car and disappear the moment she let go. "Because you seemed like you meant it when you said we should go to the cops."

"That was before I realised what was gonna happen," he assured her, holding her gaze with a meaningful look, "what my parents were gonna do to us if they found out," and she nodded, appeased. "I love you, Kate – you know that. There's nowhere else I'd rather be, and no one I'd rather be here with."

"I love you too," she whispered, ducking her head, bringing her lips down to his, and they kissed, slow and sweet, for a few minutes before releasing each other. "I know tonight's no good, but when we're both healed…"

"If that's what you want, then yeah – I'm looking forward to it," he agreed, kissing her again, and she smiled.

"Me too."

"But in the mean time, if you still wanna strip down and share a sleeping bag…" he couldn't resist teasing her, not entirely unserious, as she scooted closer to him, burying her face in his neck, and she aimed a feeble blow at his bicep, but from the way her chest shook against his, he could tell that she was laughing.

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Next chapter: Jack has a rough night, and they arrive in Mexico... ;) 


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks for the reviews. I can tell that this isn't going to be one of my more popular outings, but I'm glad to see that some of you are warming up to it. It should be an interesting ride, since my aim here is, as always, to tell a good, character driven story.

On an unrelated note, I just noticed that a lot of my fics have "theme songs": songs or bands that seem to sum up the mood or themes. If anyone's curious, I've been listening to The Plain White Ts' "Let Me Take You There" and Skillet's "Those Nights" while writing this one... ;)

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Chapter 6. Ghosts

It was still dark when Jack's eyes snapped open to find a figure looming over him, tall and imposing, just inside the entrance of the tent. The unmistakable stench of whiskey lingered in the air, thick in the confined space, suffocating him, though neither he, nor Kate, had been drinking.

Beside him, she was still asleep, her injured arm nestled in its sling against her chest, while the other gripped the fabric of his sweatshirt; she didn't stir, even when he called her name, his voice panicked, unfazed by the presence of the intruder.

"Who are you?" he demanded when he – he was sure it was a he – failed to speak, reaching for the hammer they'd used to drive in the pegs, and his heart skipped a beat when the intruder stepped forward, and he recognised the twisted expression.

It was Wayne.

"But you're… you're dead," he stammered, glancing back at Kate to see if she'd seen, but her position hadn't changed, her breath light, her eyes closed.

"You think you're so clever – comin' out here," Wayne said, and Jack nearly jumped out of his skin. He hadn't expected him to speak.

"You think they won't find you, but let me tell you somethin'. _They will_. They're gonna find you, and you're gonna pay for what you did, you and—" his pale eyes shifted to Kate, travelling over her with the same lustful gaze he'd watched her with in life, and if he hadn't done it already, Jack would have killed him right then, "—her."

"It was an accident," he told him, determined to keep him from getting inside his head, from manipulating him, but Wayne let out a humourless laugh, cutting and cruel.

"Was it now? Or was it just that you wanted her all to yourself…?"

"That has nothing to do with it," Jack insisted, but his heart was thudding against the inside of his ribcage, his body breaking into a cold sweat. "It was an accident"… wasn't it? He couldn't remember. It was all confused now.

"Jack." He could hear someone calling his name, but when he glanced over at Kate, she still hadn't moved. "_Jack_."

Wayne was gone when he shifted his gaze back to the flap; with a jerk, he opened his eyes again to find Kate hovering over him, early morning daylight streaming in through the opening behind her.

"You were having some kind of nightmare," she said with almost maternal concern as she reached out to brush the side of his face with her fingertips. "You okay?"

Realising that she was right, that it was nothing more than a bad dream, he nodded, exhaling slowly as he waited for his breathing to return to normal. "Yeah, it was nothing."

"Still…You wanna talk about it?" she pressed, almost as if she knew what it had been about, but he shook his head, too ashamed to go into it, forcing a smile as he brought his hand up to his cheek to cup hers.

"No, I'm fine."

"If you say so," she agreed, squeezing his fingers, but she didn't look convinced as she withdrew her own, wriggling out of the sleeping bag they'd ended up sharing, albeit fully clothed. "Since we're both awake, we should probably get moving. That way we can be there before it gets dark."

They toasted the bread she'd brought over the fire for breakfast, then dismantled the tent, and repacked the car, and were on the road again before the sun had even finished rising.

They'd made it through their first night of freedom, but as dawn broke over a new day, Jack couldn't help thinking about his parents, wondering how they'd felt when he'd failed to come home.

Were they angry with him? Disappointed? Relieved? Or going out of their minds with worry? Had they called the police? Had they waited up for him, or gone to bed assuming that he'd turn up once the novelty wore off, and he missed the security they provided him with?

They kept their emotions so well guarded that it was impossible to guess; harder still to tell whether his father would miss him more as his son, or his heir. Without him, there was no one for him to groom, to control, to bully and manipulate into being what he wanted him to be…

"Any idea what we're gonna do in Mexico?" he asked Kate in an attempt to shake off these thoughts, to focus on the new life they were embarking on together.

"Nope," she agreed, and he found himself returning her grin, cheered by the thought. "I guess we'll figure it out when we get there."

They reached Nogales, Arizona, around noon, Jack's stomach tightening as he stalled the car in front of the gates, and they handed over their ID and passports, afraid that someone had alerted the border police overnight, but the guard waved them through to Nogales, Mexico with a knowing smile, as if they were any other teenagers taking advantage of the illegal drugs and lower drinking age.

Having never been this far south before, Jack was surprised by how little their surroundings changed this close to the U.S., even though they were technically in another country; while there were some fairly exotic looking temples, stores and restaurants, the southern half of the city was in the process of being urbanised, and was full of shopping malls and modern housing.

"Do you wanna stop and take a look around, or keep going?" he asked Kate as they circled the city, still uneasy about alerting the border police to their presence. He was beginning to wonder if they shouldn't have stayed closer to home, where they would have been harder to track.

Fortunately, Kate seemed to be of the same mind. "Let's keep going," she said, looking thoughtful as he turned onto the highway that cut through the state of Sonora. "A lot of people come through here illegally, right? To go live in the U.S.?"

"Uh huh," he agreed, confused as to why she'd chosen that moment to start a conversation about illegal immigration. None of it had anything to do with them or what they were doing, at least not that he could see. "So?"

"So, there must be someplace around here they can go to get fake identity papers," she continued, and in spite of his apprehension about doing anything that could get them into any more trouble than they were already in, he couldn't help being impressed by how ingenious this idea was.

She seemed to be having less trouble adjusting to the life of a fugitive than he was, maybe because she didn't have as much to leave behind.

"Any thoughts on where that might be?" he asked her, and she nodded, grinning, still one step ahead of him.

"If I was gonna guess, I'd say the nearest capital city would be a good place to start," she agreed, looking pleased with herself, and with a sigh, he opened the glove box, and fished out the map they'd picked up at the border, handing it to her.

"Lead the way."

* * *

I'm doing a lot of research on ghost stories for uni at the moment, so you can blame the beginning of this chapter on that... 

Next chapter: Fake IDs, and Kate decides they're both in need of a little fun... ;)


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks for the reviews. Since interest is still slow in building, I'm going to give you guys a choice. I've started work on the first chapter on my flashforward fic (tenatively called "Going Back") which will essentially be about Jack and Kate rebuilding their relationship, then teaming up with the other survivors to bring down their "rescuers". I can put this fic on hold and start that, keep going with this and put that on hold, or alternate between the two... ;)

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Chapter 7. When In Rome…

Almost two hours, and another hundred and forty miles later, they had reached the city centre of Hermosillo, the "City of the Sun", and the capital of Sonora. While it looked respectable enough passing through, full of first class hotels and cultural centres like museums and theatres, Jack had seen enough movies to be apprehensive about ditching the car, but Kate insisted that they would never find what they were looking for unless they were on foot.

What she'd failed to mention was that in addition to walking, her plan entailed snooping around in parks and back alleys, searching out the areas most tourists tried to steer clear of.

"Kate?" he whispered as she led him down the tenth narrow passage that afternoon, this one between restaurants, where a group of burly men were drinking and playing cards. "I'm really not sure this is a good idea, especially when no one knows where we are." As far as he was concerned, it was just asking for trouble, which was exactly what he thought they'd come to Mexico to avoid.

"In case you've forgotten, helping people commit fraud is against the law – these people aren't exactly gonna take out an ad in the phone book," she complained as he put a hand on her waist, steering her out into the daylight, but she seemed to recognise that what they were doing was futile, leaning against the storefront with a sigh.

"Okay," he allowed, once the immediate threat to life was over, "but they must get the word out somehow – maybe we just need to try a different approach," and her expression brightened.

"Tijuana," she cried, hitting him with her good hand, drawing a blank look from him as he wondered when she'd started speaking Spanish.

"Am I supposed to know what you're talking about?"

"Tijuana," she repeated, as if it should be as obvious to him as it was to her, "As in the city. As in anything goes. It's like the hub of illegal activity in Mexico. You can get anything there – that's why everyone goes there for Spring Break."

"_That _Tijuana," he agreed as realisation dawned on him; hearing her describe it like that, he felt like an idiot, not just for failing to catch up to her train of thought, but for not coming up with it himself, and preventing her from putting them in such a harrowing situation.

"It's only a couple of hundred miles from here – we could be there before dark if we go now," she said, and glad that she'd given up on poking around in shady areas, he followed her back to the car.

His ribs were throbbing from the combination of sleeping on the ground, and moving a lot, both without adequate painkillers, so he let her drive for a while, reaching over on occasion to help her steer.

The sun was teetering on the horizon when he parked his car in the coastal city, across the street from a motel; he would have preferred to wait until morning to carry out any questionable business transactions, but again, he was overruled by her enthusiasm.

He didn't know where they were going, but when they reached the bus station, she ground to a halt, squeezing his forearm as she told him to listen.

"Did you hear that? _Mica_," she repeated after a twenty-something-year-old man standing by the entrance, and again, he was left behind by her use of what he was certain this time was Spanish.

"It means green card," she told him when he showed no sign of recognition, and he frowned, wondering where on earth all this information about fake IDs had come from. It wasn't the kind of thing they taught in school, or on language cassettes.

He was still musing on this when, before he could warn her against it, she had let go of his arm, and sidled up to the stranger, gesturing in his direction as she held a hurried conference with him.

A moment later, she turned around, giving him the thumbs up.

"What the hell was that, Kate?" he asked her when she returned to his side, too irritated by her impetuous behaviour to find this adorable. "He could've been an undercover cop – or worse."

She gave him a dubious look, as if she'd already entertained and dismissed this possibility. "Relax, I told him we were seventeen. He thinks we just wanna get into the clubs. So even if he _was_ a cop, he would've just given us a lecture about responsibility, and told us to go home," she assured him, and he let out the breath he was holding.

She was eager, and impetuous, but she wasn't a fool. In fact, he was amazed at how adept she was at lying. She didn't seem to get all tongue-tied like he did. "So what happens now?"

"We meet him around the block, in case we're being watched, he takes the pictures, finds out what we want them to say, then sends a runner to the lab. Shouldn't take more than an hour."

It all sounded painless enough, so, trying not to look too conspicuous, though he was sure that everyone must know what was happening, he took her hand, and they waited for her new friend at the meeting point he'd designated, in one of the side streets.

The hardest part was settling on a new name when he'd grown so accustomed to his old one; he didn't feel an affinity for anything in particular, so he let Kate re-dub him Jacob Buchanan and herself Elizabeth Carter before the information was sent off to be converted.

They hadn't eaten since the toast at breakfast, so they bought tacos from one of the vendors, and sat on a bench while they waited for the documents to come back. Jack also took this time to get some strong prescription painkillers to help with both his ribs and Kate's shoulder.

Forty minutes later, they had both graduated, and were now college students.

Jack's fears of blowing two hundred dollars of their savings on something that wouldn't fool a five year old dissipated when he saw he authentic they were. The whole time the picture was being taken, he'd been worrying that they'd get caught; when he took his old license out to compare them, admiring the attention to detail, Kate snatched them both out of his hands, laughing as she glanced from his relaxed smile, to his strained grimace. She didn't seem to have had the same problem, somehow managing to look amazing both times.

"So I guess that's that," he told her when the joke lost its appeal, and she handed them back to him, resisting the urge to fling the old one into the trash. It wasn't like he'd need it anymore. "Goodbye Jack and Kate, hello Jacob and Elizabeth."

"Liz," she corrected him with an impish grin, wrapping her good arm around him, and as he returned them to his wallet, he felt strangely sad to be casting off the last remnants of their former life.

It was as if the people that they were had died, leaving strangers in their place. He didn't know anymore about Jacob than what was printed on that card: him or his girlfriend. He supposed he'd have to make it up, but it wasn't the same as a life lived.

Kate didn't seem to register the significance of what they'd done, or if she did, she wasn't as resistant as he was. Instead, she seemed to welcome the chance to become someone else; someone better, or at least, happier.

"I say we celebrate," she said as she dragged him across the junction, onto Avenida Revolucion, the major tourist centre, where the bars and clubs were opening for the night. "You know what they say – when in Rome…"

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If anyone's wondering, everything I wrote about obtaining a fake greencard or ID is true, including the part about people peddling them at the airport and bus station in Tijuana...

Next chapter: Tequila... and at some point in the near future, Christian will come back into the story, along with another canon character from Kate's past... ;)


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks for the reviews. I thought it was about time I updated with the promised tequila chapter, so, since reviews have dropped off on "Going Back" again, and I was feeling unmotivated, here it is. I should dedicate this chapter to Tahti for convincing me to write it, otherwise the wait would have been even longer! ;)

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Chapter 8. _Comprende_?

After scoping out the avenue for the liveliest nightspot, Kate led Jack up to the door, flashing her new ID like a badge. Jack produced his, and the bouncer, a two hundred pound Mexican wrestling reject, took one brief, disinterested look at each, before waving them through into the club.

"Wow," Kate said, grinning and squeezing his hand as they made their way down the steps, into a hazy, smoke-filled room, full of people mingling to a pulsing electronic beat, albeit with a distinct local flavour. "Isn't this great?"

"It's… exotic," he called back over the music, partly as a euphemism for what he really thought, but she didn't seem to get his sarcasm, beaming at him.

"I feel like I'm in college."

Still clutching his hand, she wove her way through the crowd, to the bar, hanging over it to get the bartender's attention. "Um, can I get… two tequila shots, please," she said, and Jack couldn't help but smile at how young she seemed compared to people around them, waving bills, and shouting their orders in English and Spanish.

Keeping one for herself, she passed the other to him, clinking the glasses together. "To Wayne," she said with a wicked grin, throwing it back, and setting it back on the bar for the bartender to refill.

Something about the careless way that she said it disturbed Jack, making him wonder if she was actually glad that they'd killed him. The man was a pig, and a wannabe rapist, but Jack still wasn't sure that what they'd done was right.

She frowned, pausing with her second shot halfway to her mouth, when she saw that he hadn't touched his. "Is that okay?" she asked, turning back to study the other bottles, "Because we can get something else, if it's not," but all the labels were in Spanish, making it difficult to tell what any of them were.

"I just think you might wanna slow down, Kate," he told her, when she tossed back his shot too, keeping his voice low so that he didn't embarrass her. "You're new to this, and you're still on painkillers."

"_Liz_," she reminded him, "And doesn't slowing down defeat the whole purpose?" As if to emphasise her point, she shoved another wad of bills at the bartender, picking up the whole bottle, and moving away from the bar. Taking a straight swig, she slid her arm out of the sling, casting it aside as she reached for his hand. "Come on, let's dance. Please Jack?" she added when he dug his heels in, rooting his feet to the spot, flashing him a dazzling grin. "You know you want to."

He tried to resist her wheedling, determined not to lower his standing with her by betraying his innate lack of co-ordination, but still clutching the bottle, she tugged him out into the middle of the dance floor, tucking her thumb through his belt loop to keep him from bolting.

"See, this isn't so bad," she assured him, using it to pull him closer as she began to move, so that she was bumping and brushing against him.

"Mmm," he agreed as she brought her mouth up to his, the heat generated by their bodies, and the room, intensifying the kiss, providing further evidence that she was right, that it was more fun than he would have guessed.

He wasn't sure if it was because she was letting go, or because the alcohol was beginning to take over, but this side of her was something he'd never seen before, sexy and wild, causing him to lose all powers of rational thought.

"You taste like tequila," he told her when they broke for air, pressing his forehead to hers, and she smiled, releasing the hold she had on his jeans, and sliding her arm around his neck.

"And now, so do you," she teased him, taking another swig, and kissing him again, letting him appreciate it fully before pulling back to offer the bottle to him.

He let her put it up to his lips, swallowing to satisfy her. "There," he said with a grin, slipping his hands into her back pockets. "Happy?"

"Very," she agreed, resting her head on his chest as she sipped from the bottle, and when she held it out to him, he found himself accepting it again, matching her, relishing the peace it provided.

The bottle was empty by the time they left the club, Kate gripping his shoulder to keep from tripping back down the stairs. He'd had about as much to drink as she had by then, but she didn't seem to be holding it as well, screwing up her face and giggling at nothing as they made their way to the motel where they'd left his car.

"That was fun," she said in between fits of laughter. "We should do that again. In fact – let's do it now." Freeing herself from him, she turned in a slow, awkward circle, until she was facing the direction they'd just come from.

Gripping her shoulder to keep her from wandering off, he spun her around, setting her back on the right course. "You drink any more, and I'm gonna have to carry you," he told her, and she frowned.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're drunk," he pointed out, the difficulty he had in forming this thought reminding him that he was more than a little tipsy himself.

"I am not!" she complained, looking affronted, as if he'd just called her fat, or something equally insulting. "_You're_ drunk," she retorted, her tone accusing as she fixed him with what she must have thought was a glare.

"Which is exactly why I can't do this," he agreed, proving his point by attempting, and failing, the sobriety test. "I bet I'm not the only one."

She accepted the challenge, pressing a finger to her nose, and zigzagging wildly as she tried to hop in along a crack in the sidewalk, and he had to catch her arm to keep her from stumbling into the street.

"Maybe a little," she agreed as they let themselves into their room, holding her thumb and forefinger a quarter of an inch apart. She doubled it when he raised a sceptical eyebrow at her. "Okay, more than a little, but not _so_ drunk…" she continued, meeting his eyes with a meaningful look, her palms grazing his chest, a gesture he found strangely erotic when combined with the words that succeeded it. "I want you, Jack."

There was no pretending that he didn't understand her, because her message was loud and clear.

"Kate—" he began, but she cut him off with a firm kiss, backing him into the bed so that, with nowhere to go, he had no choice but to yield, tumbling onto the mattress with her on top of him.

"_Kate_," he tried, hissing when she put too much pressure on his ribs, and she stopped trying to undress him long enough to look up.

"What? You said later – it's later."

"_One day_," he reminded her, pushing himself up onto his elbows with her still straddling his waist. "I'm just not sure either of us is in the best condition to be making decisions."

"_Jack_," she said, mimicking his tone. "You're a seventeen year old guy. A girl – _your girlfriend_ – wants to have sex with you. Not everything has to be a decision. Some things you just do. _Comprende_?" She didn't wait for his answer, leaning forward to kiss the side of his neck as she fumbled with the button of his jeans.

Closing his eyes, abandoning himself to the twin sensations of her lips on his throat, her familiar weight pressing into his, it occurred to him that she might be right again. Why shouldn't he give in, and allow it to happen? After all, it was what he wanted too. "_Comprende_," he agreed.

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Next chapter: The aftermath of Jack's decision, or lack there of, and Jack makes a phone call... ;) 


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks for the reviews. Kate has definitely gone off the rails. More on that later! Since absence has made the heart grow fonder in the case of this fic (making my job a lot harder!), on any given day, I will now update whichever fic has the most reviews on the latest chapter: in other words, whichever one people appear the most eager to see continued... ;)

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Chapter 9. Control

When Jack cracked his eyes open the next morning, Kate was sprawled on top of him, her limbs tangled up with his under the flimsy sheet, her cheek pressed against his bare chest.

It took him a moment to cut through the fog, and then it all came rushing back: the club, the tequila, her, shoving him onto the bed, convincing him to give in to her. But it hadn't ended there; while, in his wildest dreams, he'd never imagined her as sexually aggressive, he'd had to fight her for control. It was unsettling, to say the least, but the most unsettling part was that it hadn't bothered him as much as it should have. In fact, he'd be lying if he said that some part of him hadn't enjoyed it.

She hadn't said much afterwards, going straight to sleep, but now that the alcohol was wearing off, and he was in control of his impulses again, he couldn't help wondering if she would be as confused and embarrassed about the whole thing as he was. It wasn't how he'd pictured their first time, and he'd spent a lot of time thinking about it.

He needed to know if it had changed things between them, if she hated him for taking advantage, even if, in reality, it had been the other way around; when the wait became unbearable, he shook her shoulder to wake her up, eliciting a guttural groan. She was hungover; that much he could tell; which didn't bode well for him or their relationship.

"Kate, I think we should talk about what happened last night," he told her, even though he wasn't sure that she was listening, and she made another noise of discontent.

"Why? We had sex… Do we have to make a big deal about it?" she murmured, without opening her eyes.

"You don't think it's a big deal?" he asked her, surprised. It was a little awkward; that much he was willing to admit; but he couldn't help feeling slighted at the implication that the biggest moment of his life to date was so forgettable to her.

She sighed, still not looking at him as she tried to get comfortable. "Can we do this later? My head is killing me."

He couldn't say he felt sorry for her. "Sure. Whatever," he agreed, irritated by how dismissive she was being. She was acting like… a guy. Like he was supposed to.

She pretended to fall back asleep after that, still and silent, even when he shifted her off of him and climbed out of bed.

He needed to think, and he couldn't do that with her skin pressed against his, so he replaced his clothes and went to sit in a chair on the other side of the room. The effect she had on him was worse than the tequila, overloading his senses so that he couldn't help but get swept up in whatever she was planning. His behaviour since meeting her had been so out of character that he almost didn't recognise himself anymore. He'd always thought of himself as sensible and considerate, and yet he hadn't even bothered to let his parents know that he was still alive.

Glancing over at her, he saw that she still hadn't moved; shoving his feet into his sneakers, he let himself out of the room, heading to the payphone on the corner.

His father answered on this first ring.

"Jack? Oh, thank God," he said, his voice shaking with relief when he announced who he was, but it only lasted a moment, and then he was back. "Where are you?" he demanded

"Safe," Jack assured him, though he was beginning to have trouble remembering why he was so determined not to come home.

"That's not what I asked," his father insisted, through gritted teeth, and it began to come back to him. Kate was part of it, but it wasn't just about her. It was about that.

"I know," he agreed.

"A bunch of fire fighters found Wayne Jansen's body the same day you disappeared," his father informed him in a clipped tone, seeming to decide that the direct approach wasn't going to work. "According to the coroner, his skill was bashed in with a metal bat. The police know Kate had something to do with it."

Jack felt his stomach clench with fear, but he forced himself to remain calm. "And you want me to turn her in, right?" he guessed, keeping his voice cool.

"I want you to do the right thing," his father corrected him, and Jack couldn't help admiring the way he twisted his words. He'd been doing it ever since he could remember, manipulating him into doing what he wanted.

"What if I told you I was the one who killed him?" he asked. "Would you still think it was the right thing?"

His father let out a strange hissing sound, as if he were trying to prevent him from admitting to this, too late. "You might think you're protecting her, Jack, but you're only making things worse. If you come home now…"

"You'll what?" he insisted, resisting the urge to slam the phone down then and there. "Send me to boarding school? Ship me off to live with relatives?"

"_Jack_," his father growled, and he knew that everything Kate had told him was true. He might not go to prison, but he wouldn't be going home, either. "If you don't get your ass back to L.A. by the time your mother and I go to bed tonight, I'll have no choice but to shut down your accounts. We'll see how long you last out in the real world without my help."

"So do it," Jack told him, a triumphant grin spreading over his face when the line went quiet, and he pictured his father's flabbergasted expression. For the first time in his life, he was with all the control, and his father was the one who had given it to him. "In fact, why even wait until tomorrow? Your money's no good to us now."

His father let out a tired sigh in response, and Jack felt a stab of guilt as he imagined him hunched over in the chair in his study, a glass of whisky at his elbow, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to come up with a response.

"I'm begging you, Jack – _don't do this_. Don't throw away everything we've worked for," he warned him, sounding old and helpless, but it wasn't enough to keep Jack from depositing the phone back into its cradle, severing the connection, it seemed, for good.

* * *

As he hung up the phone, Christian turned to the man beside him. "Did you get that?" he asked with a defeated sigh as he lifted his glass to his lips, settling back in his chair with his eyes closed. 

He could hear the smirk in his companion's voice as he began to pack up his equipment. "Couldn't've done it without you. Y'know, you're good – I almost believed you at the end there."

"You can believe whatever you want," Christian told him, without bothering to disguise his contempt as he took another sip of his drink. "Now don't you have a job to do?"

"Somethin' like that," the other man agreed as he let himself out.

* * *

Ominious... It was cheating, switching perspectives, but I couldn't figure out how else to show what was going on Christian's side. Who was he talking to? You'll have to guess, or wait and see. ;)

Next chapter: Kate's behaviour becomes even more confusing... ;)


	10. Chapter 10

Thanks for the reviews. I've tried begging, bribing, threatening, and now, I give up. I love writing, and have no real desire to stop, so I'm going to concentrate on making these stories the best I can. At least then I know it's not my fault that people don't like them.

For anyone who's interested (and that doesn't appear to be many), I'm trying to get an update of "Going Back" done for tomorrow. ;)

* * *

Chapter 10. Twenty Questions 

The scent of oatmeal greeted Jack when he let himself back into the room, and for the first time, he realised how famished he was after skipping dinner the night before.

"Hey," Kate called to him from the kitchenette, glancing up from the saucepan she was stirring. "Where'd you go? I was worried about you."

It was as if the earlier conversation had all been a dream; he froze in front of the door, too bewildered to string together a coherent response.

"For a walk," he told her after a long moment, afraid that the truth, that he'd called home to check in, would only further complicate their relationship. She would see it as a betrayal, not just of her trust, but her. She should have been enough. He seemed to be enough for her.

She studied his expression, scrutinising him, then nodded, returning her attention to the hotplate. "Well I made breakfast if you're hungry," she said with false brightness, overcompensating as she switched the burner off, and separated the oatmeal into two plastic bowls.

When he didn't accept her offering, she put it down with a sigh, leaning back against the bench. "Listen, I'm sorry about before."

Her apology caught him off guard, but even so, he couldn't help asking, "Sorry about what? Coming on to me? Or insisting it wasn't a big deal afterwards?" annoyed that even while acknowledging it, she was still trying to gloss over the whole incident.

She pushed herself up off the bench, her mouth falling open, her eyes widening as if she'd been slapped. "So it was _my_ fault? I tricked you, like I'm some kind of whore?" she demanded, her voice rising, and he couldn't help finding her choice of adjective strange. She was putting words in his mouth; the thought hadn't even crossed his mind. "I don't remember you putting up much of a fight."

"Really? Because I feel like _all I did_ was fight you," he told her as he joined her in the little kitchen, and she flushed, staring down at the carpet to avoid his eyes. "You know, what really hurts is the fact that you don't seem to trust me – not last night, and not now. What's going on with you, Kate? Why won't you talk to me about it?"

When she tried to push past him, to the door, he caught her wrist to stop her, but she yanked it out of his grip, rubbing it as though she couldn't stand the thought of him touching her again.

"You think because I wasn't all over you this morning, telling you how great you were, there must be something wrong with me?" she retorted.

"_Was_ I great?" he asked her, confused by the venom in her tone. He wasn't asking for her to stroke his ego, he just wanted to know why she seemed so closed off. "Did you even enjoy it, Kate? Or was that all part of the seduction routine?"

The tears that had been building threatened to erupt then, and he wondered if he'd gone too far. If he hadn't called her a whore the first time, he'd as good as called her one now. At least, he was afraid that that was how she would take it.

"I don't wanna talk about it," she said, hugging herself.

"Kate, please," he begged, softening his tone now that all the fight had gone out of her. "Just tell me if you think we made a mistake."

"Stop it. Just stop it, okay?" she retorted, doing everything to shut him out but cover her ears and hum as she crawled back into the unmade bed, curling herself into a tight, foetal ball.

As he studied the curve of her back, he saw her shoulders begin to shake, and he realised that she was crying.

"Hey," he murmured, going over to sit beside her, brushing the bangs out of her eyes, and off her forehead, so that he could see her face. "Was it something I did? Did I hurt you? Is that it? Your arm?"

He peeled back the neck of her shirt, to examine her shoulder, withdrawing his hand when she flinched.

"Sorry. I should have asked," he told her, wishing that he had some clue about how to help her, or even what was wrong. "Do you want me to take a look at it?"

She shook her head, looking so small and vulnerable, like a lost child, that he felt ashamed of himself for giving in to his more primal urges. He should have seen through her desperation, like that night in the desert. He should have known that she wasn't serious.

"Is it because we were drinking?" he tried, with no reaction.

Probably, he decided, overcome with bitter regret as he berated himself for not remembering that Wayne was always drunk when he hit on her.

"Because you weren't as ready as you thought you were? Kate, did you even want to have sex?" he checked, desperate for an explanation that didn't make him a complete ass.

When she failed to offer any reassurance that he'd read her right, he flashed back on the look in Wayne's eyes as he watched her sleep in his nightmare; the one she swore made her sick; the way he'd pinned her up against the bookcase in her room, pressing his body into hers, and he felt sick himself, afraid that in her mind, that look, and the one in his own eyes as he rolled her onto her back, and tore off her clothes, were linked.

"You didn't do it because of me, did you? Because you thought it was what I wanted?" he asked her, not even sure that he wanted the answer. He didn't want to know that he was like Wayne, that his advances had the same effect on her. "Because, Kate, what I told you the other night was true – I would have waited. You have to know that. I would never have gone along with it if…"

He felt like crying himself; she let out a deep, shuddering breath, struggling to compose herself as she said, her voice so soft that he almost didn't hear her, "Can we just forget about it? Please? Can we just start over?"

He wasn't sure that he could, but he could see that it was what she needed to hear to get past it, so he swallowed hard, nodding, realising a moment later that she couldn't see him with her back to him.

"Okay," he agreed, and as she began to relax, unfurling herself, he stretched out on the bed behind her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to his chest.

"Okay," he repeated, to strengthen his vow, as he kissed the top of her head, willing himself not to press her anymore about why this was so important to her. "Let's start over."

* * *

Next chapter: A trip to the beach, and more on Christian's friend... ;) 


	11. Chapter 11

Thanks for the reviews (For both fics -- I'm so glad you all liked my big exposition scene!) Here is the promised update -- I knew exactly what was going to happen in this chapter, and yet it was still hell to write. I've decided it's because there's not a lot of dialogue! ;)

* * *

Chapter 11. Starting Over 

Jack had no idea how to fix whatever was broken inside of her, so he lay on the bed with Kate in silence, holding her, until the tears stopped, and she rolled over to face him.

"I love you," she told him as she wriggled closer, resting her cheek on the pillow beside his, her voice soft and sincere, and for the first time since she'd announced these words to him, he didn't know whether or not he should believe them.

How could she love him and not trust him enough to give herself over to him like he would have if she hadn't rejected him? And be so afraid of him that she'd blocked his attempts to express how he felt, turning the act that was supposed to cement their bond into something violent and shameful, a struggle for dominance?

If she loved him, why did he feel like a rapist? Like he'd done something wrong in wanting to be closer to her?

He tried to convince himself that it was all part of her new plan to manipulate him, to smooth things over between them so that he wouldn't abandon her, but as he searched her eyes, he saw that she believed it, even if he wasn't sure that he did.

"I love you too," he agreed, because this was the truth, and the ghost of a smile graced her features as she lifted her head to kiss him.

Whatever she was thinking, the fight hadn't done anything to lessen her confusion; when she met his lips, it was with tenderness, but without need, and a few seconds later, she was on her feet again, moving back into the kitchen to reheat the oatmeal.

"I was thinking, if there's nothing you wanna do today, we could check out the beach," she told him, handing him one of the bowls as she perched on the end of the bed.

It wasn't how he'd pictured the morning after their big night, both of them dressed, sitting so far apart that even his parents wouldn't object, but none of the romantic gestures he had in mind seemed appropriate now that all she wanted was to pretend that it hadn't happened. The least he could have done was take her out to breakfast, but he was too afraid to suggest it in case she accused him of treating her like a whore.

"Sounds good," he agreed without any real enthusiasm, feeling frustrated and defeated, and she glanced over at him, but didn't comment.

The oatmeal was lumpy and burnt; he made a show of eating it until she set her bowl on the sideboard and went to get her backpack out of the car, rinsing the rest down the drain.

He hated that they were acting like strangers; he wanted to lash out at her, to break her down, to cause another fight if that was what it took, but he couldn't now that he'd seen the cracks in her façade. She was too weak, too fragile. It would only make her cry, and this time, he wouldn't even be able to comfort her.

* * *

As if the day couldn't get any worse, when he pulled up in front of the deserted beach west of Tijuana, signs warning that the water was contaminated obstructed what was supposed to be a scenic view. 

Angry that he couldn't seem to do anything right, he smacked the steering wheel in frustration, losing any satisfaction he might have gained when she flinched, but as he brought his hand up to massage his forehead, he was surprised to feel her slim fingers closing around his, pulling it away.

"I think we should keep driving," she told him with a timid smile when he glanced in her direction, still clutching his hand, caressing his palm with her thumb.

It wasn't the confession he'd been hoping for, but it was a kind of absolution, assuring him that she didn't blame him for whatever went wrong. She wanted to fix it as much as he did, to repair the damage she'd caused in their relationship, she just didn't know how.

Returning her smile, he lifted her hand to his lips, pressing them to her knuckles, before dropping it, and reaching for the ignition. They still had a long way to go before they were okay, but knowing that no matter what else was going on, she _did_ love him, he didn't feel as frustrated and defeated anymore.

* * *

He drove fifteen miles south, past the smoke stacks marking out a power plant, to a stretch of coastline called Rosarito Beach, where tourist facilities, condos and luxury resorts assured them that the water was clean. 

Killing the engine, he climbed out, letting the salt breeze wash over him as she stared out to sea, and a moment later, he heard the other door slam, and felt her hand seek his.

Glancing over at her, seeing how nervous she looked, as if she wasn't sure how to act around him, he pulled her in closer, wrapping his arm around her.

"You wanna go for a swim?" he asked her, to break the silence, when she let out a soft sigh, leaning into him, and he saw the knot of her bathing suit poking out past her collar.

"No, I think I just wanna walk for a while," she told him, tilting her head to meet his eyes, and he grinned, kissing the bridge of her freckled nose.

"Sounds good," he agreed, meaning it this time, as he followed her lead and kicked off his own shoes, sliding his arm back around her waist, their bare feet falling into sync in the sand.

* * *

It was dark by the time they returned to the car, and made the drive back Tijuana. 

They still hadn't talked about the second "incident", and whether they would try again that night; the next time they had sex, he wanted it to be because she wanted to, not because she thought it was what he expected, so he decided not to pressure her by bringing it up.

As he parked in front of their room, he noticed a black sedan in the space next to theirs, one he knew hadn't been there that morning. When he glanced over at Kate, she was staring at the dashboard, lost in her own thoughts; shaking off his unease at how out of place it looked, he collected the bag that contained their towels and left over food and went to unlock the door.

Stepping inside, he started when he made out a faint silhouette, flipping on the light to discover a man he'd never seen before sitting at the foot of the bed. He was American, and too well dressed to work at the motel; realising that he'd been waiting for them, Jack opened his mouth to warn Kate, but before he could make a sound, the man cut him off.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. It'll be better for you if you don't run," he said, just in time for Jack to hear the gasp that signalled Kate's arrival.

He felt her fingers snake around his bicep, digging in so hard that he was sure the skin was bruised. "We have to get out of here," she whispered against his ear as he stepped in front of her, determined not to behave like a coward.

"Who are you?" he demanded, and the man pushed himself to his feet, smirking as he produced two sets of handcuffs from his jacket pocket.

"Edward Mars – U.S. marshal," he told them with a humourless chuckle, and glancing back at Kate, Jack saw all of the colour drain from her face. "And you, kids, are under arrest for murder."

* * *

Once again, all true. The water in Tijuana is contaminated (with sewerage), and swimming in it is not recommended. ;) 

Next chapter: Is this really the end, or will they escape? ;)


	12. Chapter 12

Thanks for the reviews. Since I left it on a cliffhanger last time, I thought it was about time I updated. I'm going away for New Year's, but I should have time for one more chapter before I leave. I had planned to update "Going Back", but since I only got 5 reviews last time, and 2 for the last "Missing Piece", I'm going to need something more in the way of incentive. Otherwise it won't be until at least Wednesday, if at all. ;)

* * *

Chapter 12. Divide And Conquer

"Murder?" Jack repeated, choking on the word, horrified at hearing his actions described like this. It wasn't murder if he hadn't meant to kill Wayne… was it?

The nightmare he'd had in the desert came flooding back into his mind, vivid as a memory.

_"It was an accident," he told him, determined to keep him from getting inside his head, from manipulating him, but Wayne let out a humourless laugh, cutting and cruel._

_"Was it now? Or was it just that you wanted her all to yourself…?"_

If what Wayne had told him was true, then what he'd done had nothing to do with protecting Kate. Was he really capable of something like that? Something so calculated and… cold?

"That's right," the marshal agreed with a smirk, and for a moment, Jack was afraid that he was answering this question for him, until he added, "Seems your old friend Wayne had a run in with a bat. Now's he's dead, and you two are the prime suspects."

Kate's voice quivered with the same fear Jack could see reflected in her eyes as she pipped up, "We don't know what you're talking about. We didn't do anything," her guilt so palpable that the marshal laughed.

"Then why'd you take off to Mexico the night it happened?" he pressed, his own eyes gleaming with amusement, and she turned the same colour as the white washed walls, but to her credit, she stood her ground.

"Why not?" she retorted, bringing both hands up to her hips, but Jack could see that they were shaking. "We wanted to go the clubs."

The marshal seemed to note this too, turning to Jack to see how he would respond. Would he confirm her story, or snitch on them both, forcing her to suffer the consequences along with him?

"What about you? You got anything to say to that?" he asked, the cuffs dangling from his fingers like poisonous snakes, enjoying their little game. It was clear that even though they outnumbered him two to one, he didn't see either of them as posing much of threat. He hadn't even drawn his gun.

This exchanged had give Jack the chance to regain his composure, putting on his best poker face as he replied coolly, "Not without a lawyer."

The marshal let out a good-natured chuckle at this answer, impressed with his pragmatism. "You're a smart kid, Jack. A little green, but smart," he told him with what almost passed for warmth, his expression turning to one of mild contempt as he shifted his attention to Kate. "Too bad you fell in with the wrong crowd."

"Don't get me wrong – I get what you see in her," he continued as if she wasn't in earshot, giving her an appraising once over that reminded him a little of Wayne, "but from what your father tells me, she's trouble with a capital T."

Jack was seconds away from wiping the smirk off his face when he registered the full implication of what he was saying, Kate turning to him with a bewildered expression that he was sure mirrored his own. "My father?" he repeated, hoping he'd misheard him. It couldn't be a coincidence that the marshal showed up the same day he'd called home.

"Yeah. Nice guy," he agreed. "Very co-operative. Let me set up shop in his office while we waited for you to get in touch," the pointedness in his tone causing Kate to shoot Jack a sharp look.

_What is he talking about?_ she demanded, her expression so suspicious and hurt that he wasn't sure that she'd accept his guilty half shrug as an answer.

His father had given them both up, he realised, the idea cutting straight to his heart like a physical blow. Everything he'd said, everything he'd made him feel, was a ploy designed to keep him on the line so that the marshal could trace the call. He wasn't scared, or desperate, he just wanted to win.

With his father's betrayal fresh in his mind, he made a split second decision, ignoring the voice in his head that told him he would end up regretting it. "Get in the car, Kate."

This wasn't the answer she was expecting. "What?" she asked, her eyes wide and incredulous; up until then, he had been the voice of reason, the one who insisted that they should do the right thing. He almost couldn't believe it himself.

"Don't tell me you're thinking of doing a runner, 'cause then I might have to take back what I said about you bein' smart," the marshal taunted him, sounding wary at this gross miscalculation. Clearly Kate wasn't the only one was anticipating a different reaction.

"Just get in the car, Kate. Now," he repeated, louder this time, and shocked out of her daze by his commanding tone, she scurried back out to the parking lot.

He waited until he heard the door slam to starting inching backwards himself, but the marshal wasn't finished with him.

"Beautiful girl," he said, fidgeting with the cuffs as he watched her go, the malice clear in his tone as he added, "Bet you even think she's yours. Just a word of advice, though – girls like that, they don't belong to nobody. She's usin' you, and when she's done…"

His smile was twisted and cruel, the mirror image of Wayne's in the dream. "She'll dump you like yesterday's trash. Take it from me – I know her type. I _love_ her type."

Jack could see what he was doing: he was trying to get inside his head, to turn him against her, so that he wouldn't feel obligated to her. It was an age-old strategy: divide and conquer.

"You don't know anything about her, or me," he retorted, forcing himself to bite back his fury. She wouldn't do that to him… would she?

He found himself flashing back to the night before, the way she'd seduced him into having sex with her, only to dismiss him again when they were done, without sparing a thought for what it might mean to him. Was it all just an act, all the crying and confusion afterwards? Was she really so messed up that she would pretend to be traumatised, that there was something really wrong?

"I _know_ none of this was your idea," the marshal assured him, even though Jack didn't know whether or not to believe this anymore. It might have been Kate's decision to run, but he was the murderer. He was the one who'd decided to bash in Wayne's skull. "I know you got a good chance of avoiding prison if you come with me now."

He was baiting him, trying to get him to agree that Kate was the one at fault, that she was the bad one. "So that's it? I give you Kate, and I walk free?" The thought of selling her out like that; of considering it, even for a few seconds, even with no real intention of following through; made him sick. "You sound just like my father."

The marshal was losing the tentative hold he had on him, and he knew it. "Come on, Jack," he said, appealing to him one last time before he resorted to force. "Do yourself a favour – don't throw your life away on some white trash whore who could care less about you."

He couldn't have chosen a worse adjective if he'd tried, echoing Kate's brutal description of herself, the one that had hurt him almost as much as it had hurt her, maybe more.

Hearing it again, Jack felt something inside of him break, releasing all of the pent up anger and frustration he'd been grappling with since he woke up that morning.

For only the second time in his life, he found himself enraged enough to want another man's blood; before he had time to take note of what he was doing, he had closed the distance between them, his fist connecting with the marshal's face, sending him reeling backwards into the bed.

Dodging his flailing limbs, he snatched hold of his collar and hit him again, hard enough to knock him out, transferring his gun to his own belt as an afterthought. Then, breathing hard, the blood pounding in his ears, he raced out into the parking lot.

He was relieved to find Kate fidgeting in the driver's seat with the engine running.

"Drive!" he shouted at her as he yanked open the passenger's side door, scrambling into the cabin beside her, hardly daring to consider what he was doing. It wasn't enough for him to kill Wayne; he'd assaulted a federal agent, and now he was evading arrest.

"Jack, what—?" she insisted, eyeing his bloody knuckles as he gripped the dash, waiting for his heart to slow, but he cut her off.

"We'll talk about it later, just drive!"

* * *

Next chapter: Kate presses Jack for the truth, another fight (and, just so you know it's not all angst, after making up, I'm thinking about having them work through some of Kate's issues by trying again)... ;) 


	13. Chapter 13

Thanks for the reviews: all three of them :( I'm not sure if people are still reading, but I was inspired to write this chapter tonight (so inspired that I was up until almost 3am finishing it!) so I thought I might as well post it. I think it's my new favourite.

Has everyone heard the awesome news about episode 4? If not, go over to DarkUFO's spoiler section. Not much info as of yet, but it made my new year! (Something is going to happen at the end that: makes Skaters unhappy, makes it a lot of women's favourite episode, and makes it the stuff of shipper legend. Don't know what it is, but I can guess!) ;)

* * *

Chapter 13. Power Struggles 

Cowed into submission by the force of his tone, Kate did as instructed, slamming her foot down on the accelerator, the tyres squealing as she pealed out of the parking lot.

Jack's stomach lurched as she swerved to avoid hitting the bumper of another car; sinking back against the headrest, closing his eyes, trying to calm himself now that the threat of being arrested had passed, he couldn't stop thinking about what would happen if Edward Mars caught up with them.

He wouldn't make the mistake of trying to bargain with them again; next time, he would wrestle them to the ground and slap the cold metal cuffs onto their wrists without a moment's hesitation. It wouldn't matter that Jack's father was a well-respected surgeon; he was now and forevermore a criminal in the marshal's eyes.

Neither of them spoke as Kate manoeuvred the car back onto the main road, breaking the speed limit by at least ten miles, until reaching the coast, she slowed, eying him with a wary look.

"Where're we going?" she asked, her voice soft, timid, as if afraid that he would snap at her again.

"I don't know – somewhere safe," he told her with a tired sigh, sliding down in his seat, exhausted now that the adrenaline had left him. "Back across the border." He searched his mind for a destination at random, seizing on the first one that came to him. "Texas."

She glanced over at him again, her voice hopeful, apparently convinced that he had a plan. That he wasn't just making it all up as he went along like she was. "What's in Texas?"

"Nothing," he agreed. "That's the point."

She didn't say anything, her lips forming a silent "Oh" in response as she returned her eyes to the road, turning the car around and heading east.

At least twenty minutes must have passed before she spoke again. "What happened back there, Jack?" she asked, annunciating each word in a slowly, carefully, as if she'd been rehearsing the question in her mind. "Did you…?"

She was trying to keep her voice neutral, but he could see the fear in her eyes as they strayed to the gun in his belt and it made him sick. "No," he assured her with a violent shudder before she could finish the thought. "I just hit him."

"Why?" There was a hint of accusation in the word, and he wanted to tell her, so that there could be no mistake about what kind of a man he was, but he couldn't. He never wanted her to hear what the marshal said about her.

"I don't know," he told her, and she nodded, but he could see that she didn't believe him.

"He said he was with your dad while he waited for you to call," she continued, and Jack felt his heart sink. He never wanted her to find out what he'd done, not now that he'd vowed to cut all ties with home. It was a mistake; the whole thing was a mistake. "What did he mean, Jack? Did you call him?"

Something in the tone of her voice caused him to snap. "Yes, okay? I called him," he snapped, resisting the urge to demand to know what gave her the urge to act so self-righteous. None of this had been his idea.

"When?"

He could lie, but he knew what she was thinking. His "walk" had lasted for over an hour; long enough. "This morning," he agreed, deciding that it was better to just tell the truth.

"You led him straight to us? How could you do that?" she pressed, her voice rising, and he found himself losing his temper again before he had the chance to check it.

"How could I do it, or how could I do it without asking you first?" he retorted, and she recoiled from him with a wounded look.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like," he assured her, unable to keep the words from tumbling out. It was liberating, finally being able to let her in on what was on his mind. "I'm sick of you ordering me around – if it was up to me, we would've turned ourselves in. We never would've let things get this far."

She hit the breaks so abruptly that Jack was thrown forward, his seatbelt yanking him back against the seat with a painful jerk. "If it was up to _you_?" she repeated, rounding on him, her fierce expression doing nothing to hide the fact that she was near tears. "Why does everything have to be up to you? Why can't _I_ be in control for once in my life?"

_Like last night?_ a voice in his head asked, reminded of the way she'd struggled to remain on top, to dominate him, wondering if they were finally about to get to the bottom of it, but she snapped her mouth shut, chewing her bottom lip stubbornly, as if she'd already said more than she'd intended.

"I just wish you'd let me take care of you," he confessed, softening as he moved to brush the hair out of her eyes, but she shifted out of his reach, starting the engine and putting the car back into motion.

"I don't need to be taken care of," she told him, but something about the way she said it convinced him otherwise.

* * *

Kate's silent treatment lasted several hours, until hundreds of miles from Tijuana and the marshal, and headed into a rainstorm, Jack suggested that they stop for the night. 

He knew that she resented giving in after their fight in the car, scowling as she watched him pitch the tent, but he was comforted by the knowledge that this was partly due to the fact that she was one of the proudest, stubbornest people he'd ever met.

He had to stifle a laugh when she fished her sleeping bag out of the trunk, dropping it in the dirt a good five feet from the entrance. "Don't be ridiculous, Kate," he told her, ignoring her furious look as he took it inside. "It's not safe for you to sleep out here. Do you wanna get eaten by a coyote? Or kidnapped? Not to mention that it looks like rain."

She followed him through the flap with an exasperated sigh, snatching the sleeping bag back from him and settling as far from him as she could without suffocating herself against the wall.

As the first droplets hit the roof, he noticed that she was shivering, her hands tucked into her armpits, knees drawn to her chest to keep warm. "Come here," he said, holding his arms out to her, but instead of opening up, she curled herself even tighter, meeting his eyes with a defiant look in the darkness.

"You want me to come over there and pretend nothing happened?" she insisted, but he could hear the quiver in her voice as she tried not to tell him see how much she wanted to do just that.

"I just want you to stop being mad at me," he told her, wishing that there was some way he could convince her of how sorry he was, letting his arms drop back against his sides as he turned away to face the other side of the tent.

A moment later, he felt her presence behind him, rolling over to find that she had abandoned her bedding, and was crouching at his side. Wordlessly, he unzipped his sleeping bag and she crawled inside, stretching out beside him with her head on his chest.

"Better?" he asked her, and she nodded.

"Good," he agreed with a grin, feeling better himself just from having her close. It made everything else seem like a bad dream.

As she tried to get comfortable, burrowing deeper into him, he brushed her hair with his lips, suddenly aware of how warm she felt now that she'd stopped shivering. The thought of the heat radiating between them sent his own body temperature rocketing, spurred on by the memory of her bare, damp skin against his.

"Well goodnight," he managed to croak out, trying to clear the images along with his throat, surprised when, keeping one hand braced against his chest, she pushed herself up to kiss him.

She seemed to mean it as a conciliatory gesture, rather than a goodnight peck; cradling the back of her head with his own hands, he deepened the kiss, heartened when she responded in kind.

She didn't object when, after a few minutes of this, he rolled them over so that she was the one on the ground; encouraged by her submission, he shifted his lips to her jaw, letting an experimental hand drift below the waistband of her jeans.

At the feel of his fingers caressing her thigh, she snapped out of whatever daze she'd fallen into. "Stop it," she told him, clamping her knees together on instinct, her breathing ragged as she sat up and pushed him off of her.

Bewildered at being rejected again when she was the one to initiate it, he forced himself to meet her wild, tear-filled eyes, searching them for some clue as to what he'd done wrong.

Then it hit him: he hadn't done anything wrong, not last night, and not now. She was the one with the issue. She was the one who was scared of him.

"You know I love you, right?" he asked her, and she nodded, the innocence in her expression almost making him dismiss the plan forming in his mind. "That I'd never do anything to hurt you?"

She nodded again, relaxing until, in one firm yet gentle movement, he pushed her back against the ground, pinning her hands above her head. "Wait, what're you doing?" she asked, her voice rising in panic when she realised that she couldn't move. "Stop it, Jack – this isn't funny."

When he wouldn't let her go, she tried to knee him in the groin, but before she could, he straddled her so that both of her legs were trapped underneath his.

"It's okay," he told her, doing his best to hold her still as she continued to thrash beneath him. "Hey, it's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you, I promise."

"Don't, Jack, please don't," she sobbed, and he couldn't help wondering what she thought he was going to do.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, almost afraid of her answer. If she did, would she be fighting him this hard? Would she really think he was going to make this happen against her will?

"What?" she sniffed, the tears spilling silently onto her cheeks, and it was all he could do to keep his eyes locked on hers.

"Do you trust me, Kate? Yes or no," he repeated, and this time she nodded.

"Yeah," she agreed. "_Yes_."

Letting go of her hands, he unbuttoned her jeans, apprehensive when she didn't try to resist. He didn't want another struggle, but he didn't want her to lay there unresponsive either. He wanted her to want this as much as he did.

When he met her eyes again, they were dry, watching him intently; taking this as a sign that he should continue, he slid her jeans down over her hips, and off, pulling her shirt over her head, and this time, she raised her arms to help him.

He didn't want to go too fast, allowing her time to adjust, to feel safe, so once she was undressed, he lowered her back onto the makeshift bed, taking his time tracing the contours of her body, first with his hands, then with his lips.

He couldn't tell whether or not she approved until her back arched, and he heard her gasp, lifting his head to see that her eyes had fluttered shut, the corners of her lips turned up into a smile.

"I want you to keep your eyes open and focus on me," he told her, and she did, her cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment as his gaze locked on hers, something that he couldn't help but find adorable.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he told her, hovering over her, kissing a path up to her lips. "Do you want me to stop?" he pressed, even though he wasn't sure he could, but to his relief, she shook her head.

"No."

"What do you want me to do?" he asked her, determined to give her more than just the illusion of control this time.

"I want you to…" she began, licking her lips as she considered this, and he could feel her trembling, only this time he knew that it wasn't from cold or from fear. She lifted her head, her lips brushing his ear as she amended, "I want _you_," her voice barely above a whisper, and when he looked into her eyes, he could see that she meant it.

* * *

I think that's the most graphic sex/pre-sex scene I've ever done: just so I know that I didn't embarrass myself for nothing by posting it, please review. 

Next chapter: After all the angst of the last few chapters, I think it's time they had some happiness, even if we all know it can't last! ;)


	14. Chapter 14

Thanks so much for your reviews. :) Your encouragment has a lot to do with the fact that this chapter comes with my first ever adult warning, just in case (I'm strangely proud!). Hopefully it'll answer some of your questions about Kate. I think I like it even better than the last one, especially the flashback... ;)

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Chapter 14. What now? 

Kate was still asleep in his arms when Jack woke the next morning. Clutching her in a protective embrace, watching her back rise and fall, the steady rhythm tickling his chest as she exhaled, he found his thoughts drifting back to the night before.

"_What now?" he asked her, eager to move on to the next stage, surprised when the corners of her lips shifted into an uncertain grin._

"_I think maybe you should take your clothes off too," she whispered against his ear as she sat up to help him undress, her fingers tracing the muscles of his chest and back once freed from his shirt, carrying out the same careful exploration of him that he had of her._

_Once she'd kissed and touched her way around him, mapping the terrain she'd neglected in her eagerness to get it over with the night before, she let him ease her back down, and he knelt over her, drinking her in, trying to commit every detail of her to memory so that he would remember this night for the rest of his life._

"_Do you still wanna do this?" he asked her, giving her one last chance to bow out before she felt trapped._

"_Yeah," she breathed, her voice thick with nerves. "I trust you."_

_In spite of her brave words, he saw that she'd locked her knees together again, keeping him out; parting them gently, he noticed, for the first time, a row of tiny, fingerprint shaped bruises on the inside of her thigh, faded and yellow with age, but as unmistakable as a brand. They were in the same place he'd tried to touch her when she freaked out, but he knew with the certainty that he knew his own name that they weren't his._

_The conversation he'd had with Wayne in the dream flashed back into his mind: _

"_It was an accident."_

"_Was it now? Or was it just that you wanted her all to yourself…?"_

_And for the first time since it happened he wished that it wasn't. If he could kill him all over again, he would, and this time he wouldn't feel guilty._

"_What?" she asked when she realised that he was staring at her, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Don't you?"_

_He wasn't sure what she was talking about until he registered the hurt in her voice, the fear of being rejected now, after everything he'd just put her through; swallowing against the lump in his throat, he moved over her so that his face was inches from hers._

"_Do you have any idea how amazing you are?" he whispered, catching himself before the word 'beautiful', Wayne's word, slipped out, and the most perfect smile he'd ever seen broke over her face._

"_You're pretty amazing too," she said happily, kissing him, and afterwards, he just held her for a moment, stroking her hair and burying his face in her neck so that she couldn't see the anguish in his expression._

"_You ready?" he asked her once he felt composed enough to continue, pulling back before she guessed that something was wrong. She didn't want him to know, so he would pretend that he didn't until he figured out what he was going to do._

"_Uh huh – I trust you," she agreed, screwing her eyes shut in anticipation, and he ran the backs of his fingers over her cheek, urging her to look at him. _

_To see _him_ this time._

"_Don't close your eyes," he told her, kissing her softly, pushing all of the love he felt for her into his own so that she would never forget either. "Focus on me, on my face – don't think about anything else."_

_Anyone else, a voice inside his head amended, but he brushed it aside._

_By the time he collapsed against her there were fresh tear tracks on her cheeks, and he felt sick to his stomach, trying to figure out if he'd been too rough, too hard, too focused on his own needs to take care of hers. She hadn't complained, or fought back like she had the first time, but did that really make a difference? She'd fought back against Wayne, and he'd just hurt her all the more because of it. Maybe she thought it would be over sooner if she just let him take whatever he wanted from her._

"_You're crying," he said, trying to wipe her tears away along with his guilt, sucking in a deep, painful breath as he added, "Is it because I hurt you?"_

_She was silent for a moment, considering this, as if she wasn't sure why either, then she shook her head. "No," she assured him, her eyes welling up again as she raised her head to kiss him. "I'm crying because you didn't."_

Something was eating away at her, he thought, wrapping his sleeping bag tighter around them, as if he thought that, with that simple action, he could keep the truth at bay; something she felt that she couldn't tell him. He wished that he could reach into her mind and pluck it out of her so that she wouldn't have to, so that he could spare her the pain of having to relive it when the wounds were still as fresh as that bruise.

His thoughts were still filled with the dilemma of getting her to open up when he wasn't even supposed to know that there was something she needed to open up about, when she stirred a while later, lifting her head, and pushing the curls back from her face so that she could look at him.

"Hey," she said, her green eyes still half-closed, and he forced himself to shut everything else out and enjoy the moment, knowing that for the rest of his life, it would be the standard by which he measured all others like it.

"Hey yourself," he returned, lifting his head to kiss her, unable to keep himself from asking, "How are you?" on pulling back.

The words sounded odd, too formal to his ears, but if she agreed, she didn't let on. "Tired," she confessed with a laugh, stretching languidly and sliding her arms underneath his, lying back down against him with her cheek on his chest. "But happy. I like waking up like this – with you."

She settled her legs on either side of his, burrowing deeper into him; he could hear her grin as she teased, her voice muffled. "You make an excellent pillow."

"I'll be sure to put that in my college applications," he agreed, cradling her head against his shoulder and kissing the top of it, realising his mistake when she froze, muscles tensing that were relaxed seconds before.

"What's gonna happen now, Jack?" she asked softly, struggling free to look at him.

Seeing the naked terror in her eyes as she realised that everything they'd come to depend on, except each other, was gone, he chose to pretend that he didn't understand her.

"Whatever you want," he told her, scrabbling for his clothes, not even sure what he was going to do when he found them. "If you're hungry, we could—"

But she held on fast, pressing her weight into him so that he had no choice but to listen while she cleared up any doubt as to what her question meant. "No, I mean, we're going to Texas, but then what? We're _not_ going to college – we're not even gonna finish high school."

She was looking to him as if he had all the answers, as if he wasn't as scared in all of this as she was; maybe even more, since he had the added burden of trying to figure out how to help her when he wasn't even sure what was wrong.

"Then," he confessed, feeling old beyond his meagre seventeen years, "I don't know."

* * *

Next chapter: They continue on to Texas (I'm determined to put some fluff into the next few chapters, before the next big event)... ;) 


	15. Chapter 15

Thanks for the reviews. I've tried asking for feedback, I've tried bribing, threatening, begging, writing fluff, writing cliffhangers, going out of my comfort zone when it comes to writing sex, but none of it appears to have worked. So, since trying to figure out why people are still reading but refusing to throw me a bone is wearing me out, I'm just letting you know that I'm on the verge of discontinuing all of my WIPs. I'll probably keep writing, because I have this thing about finishing what I start, but you won't see another word on this site. :(

To show you I'm serious, I've written the next chapter of Going Back (all about Jack and J.J.), but I won't be posting it until I get at least a few more reviews. (For some reason I can't even break the 100 mark with this one.) They don't all have to be good: you can flame me if you want, just say _something._ It's the indifference that's getting to me. Thanks. ;)

* * *

Chapter 15. Layers 

After another breakfast of rations stolen from Kate's kitchen, which, three days on, were dwindling down to the less practical foods, they dismantled the tent and were on their way again, towards the Mexican-Texas border.

"I think we should get rid of the car," Kate said as they passed through the last decent sized town before crossing back into the States, and Jack laughed, until he realised that it wasn't a joke.

"You wanna ditch my car in the middle of nowhere?" he asked her, horrified by the idea. It was a gift from his father on getting his license; as ashamed as he was to admit it, it was his prized possession. "Do you have any idea how much this thing is worth?"

She gave him a look that told him he was the one who was crazy. "Worth going to prison for?" she asked, and he couldn't deny the fact that she had a point. "Because Mars has the make and model and the plates – he probably gave it all to the border police along with our names when he told them to look out of us."

"You know what? Let's just get it over with," he told her with a sigh, pulling into the nearest used car lot, where the salesman couldn't believe his good luck when they explained that they wanted to trade their BMW in for a beat up old van.

It was a stick shift, and a clunky one at that; it took Jack a few miles to get into the rhythm of it, but the time he handed over their fake IDs at the border, and was waved through with a bored look, he was glad that Kate had talked him into taking such insane precautions.

Southern Texas didn't look all that different to Mexico, and after miles of continuing desert, Jack found himself wondering why he'd suggested it when they could have gone somewhere like New Mexico. He tried to picture them in Roswell, surrounded by tacky alien paraphernalia, until it occurred to him that that wasn't much more appealing.

"Any idea where we should go?" he asked, handing Kate the map, hoping that she would tell him she wanted to keep going on through to New Orleans or something, but she answered him without even opening it.

"Austin," she said, and glancing over at her, at her flushed cheeks and impish grin, he found himself grinning too at how adorable she was.

"You just picked it because of the name," he said, a note of mock accusation in his tone, and she nodded, making no secret of this fact.

"Yup. It's a good name."

Watching as she stuffed the map in the glove box, sinking back in her seat with her feet on the dash, he had to agree with her there, so, with another sigh, he slowed at the next turn off, changing their course so that they were heading due east.

"You're just lucky no one knows we're in Texas," he told her.

* * *

There were worse places they could have ended up, Jack decided as he drove through city, admiring how green everything was. It was a far cry from L.A., which successfully earned its reputation as a concrete jungle, with its small businesses and quirky old world outlook. 

He wasn't all that eager to spend another night on the ground, so they booked another motel room; as he took the key, Jack tried not to think about what it was costing them. He still had at least a thousand dollars cash rolled up in a pair of socks at the bottom of his backpack, but at the rate they were chewing through it, it wouldn't last long.

They needed to restock on supplies, so after settling in, they walked into the city, to the closest thing they could find to a supermarket, where they could pick up enough food to last the next couple of weeks.

Kate wandered off as soon as they entered the store; Jack was struggling to come to terms with the prices, trying to decide whether or not shampoo was a necessary expense, when she reappeared beside him.

"What d'you think, would I make a better blonde or redhead?" she asked him, showing him two boxes, giggling as she struck a pose to model each, and he wondered what she was talking about, until she added, "You know, as a disguise."

He wanted to insist that she was beautiful the way she was; better, perfect; but in the end, he just pointed to the former, knowing that the police were looking for a girl with dark hair.

"So gentlemen really do prefer blondes – how did I know that would be more your type?" she teased him as she tossed the box into the basket along with a pair of scissors, and some straightening gel, and realising what she had in mind, all he could think about was weaving his hands though her long, dark curls the night before.

He would love her no matter what she looked like, but he couldn't help mourning their loss, the way he'd mourned their old names. It was like watching her shed another layer of skin, becoming someone that neither of them recognised.

"What about you?" she continued, pausing to run her fingers through his close-cropped hair. "We could shave it, or bleach the tips until it grows," she suggested with a thoughtful expression, but reluctant to do either, he picked a baseball cap up off the stand and yanked it down over his ears to demonstrate.

"Sexy," she agreed, crossing her arms, and stroking her chin with a mock appraising look, and he found himself relaxing as he laughed along with her.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her in such a genuinely good mood; it was like by replacing the confusion of their drunken night in Tijuana with something more meaningful, they really had succeeded in wiping the slate clean, giving them the chance to start over.

"Come on, let's go find out if blondes really do have more fun," he told her with a grin, wrapping his arm around her as he threw a few more things into the basket, and started towards the register.

* * *

"So?" Kate said, wringing her hands as she stepped timidly out of the bathroom a while later, and Jack almost didn't recognise her at first. 

The ponytail she'd had when she went in was gone, replaced by damp golden bangs that fell to somewhere around her biceps.

He wasn't sure what to tell her, so he said the first thing that came into his mind. "Wow."

She seemed to take this as a compliment, though he was in two minds over whether or not this was true, her face breaking into a bright smile as she crawled up onto the bed to kiss him.

She was still naked except for her towel; he pulled back after a moment to give her the chance to get dressed, his mouth falling open in shock when, with a wicked grin, she released the knot, and drew him back in.

"Kate…" he breathed, catching her hands to stop her when she started tugging on his shirt, afraid that she was play acting again, convincing herself that she was someone other than the scared, scarred girl he knew resided underneath her disguise, but when he searched her eyes, he saw that she wasn't pretending this time.

"Oh God, that was too forward, wasn't it?" she whispered, horrified by what she must have seen as a rejection on his part, scrambling to cover herself again. "I'm sorry – you probably think I'm—"

He cut her off with a hard kiss before she could retreat into the bathroom, cupping her cheek in his palm, and bracing his forehead against hers. "Don't say it, okay? No one thinks that, especially not me. Got it?"

She offered him a feeble nod in return, but she still wouldn't meet his eyes, and he wondered if she believed him. "Then why…?"

"I just wanna be sure it's what you really want," he told her, running his fingers through her now blonde locks, still soft from the dye. "I don't want anymore weirdness between us."

"It is," she assured him, lifting her face to his with a determined look, but he could see the tears building behind it. "I _want_ to do this, Jack. I know you think I don't, but I… I'm sorry I've been all over the place. I'm sorry I sent you all those mixed signals. I didn't mean to, I was just… scared."

It was the closest she'd come to acknowledging what happened between them in Tijuana, and the night before, maybe even with Wayne, to confuse her so much. "Okay," he agreed, prying her fingers off the towel, and taking them in his. "Then all you have to do is ask."

* * *

Next chapter: Jack and Kate continue to hang out in Austin, and Coming Up: Something happens that will help Jack come to a decison about what they're going to do next... ;) 


	16. Chapter 16

I just want to thank you all (again) for taking me seriously and reviewing: you have no idea how pleased I was to finally reach one hundred! As for Kate's hair... That was mostly an in joke about Sarah and Juliet, although if you remember, she had it that colour at the beginning of Born To Run, even if we didn't get a very good look... ;)

* * *

Chapter 16. Just A Bad Dream 

"How… uh, how are you?" Jack asked, clearing his throat, still uncomfortable about throwing himself into another physical encounter with Kate, even if she'd been the one to initiate it.

It was early evening; the sun had set an hour earlier, casting shadows across the motel room. They were both lying on their sides, Jack holding Kate from behind, the top of her head tucked neatly under his chin.

He couldn't see her expression, so he was surprised when he felt her shoulders shake with laughter, and she rolled over to face him in the semi-darkness. "You don't have to ask me that every time. I'm okay, Jack," she told him, adjusting her position so that she was resting with her cheek on his chest. "I told you, I like being here with you, like this." To illustrate her point, she wrapped her arms tighter around him, the vibrations of her throat sending a slight tremor through his ribcage.

"But that's not the only part you like?" he checked, hoping that, after the breakthrough he thought they'd made the night before, she wasn't just letting him sleep with her to get to the cuddling afterwards.

"No, that was pretty good too," she assured him, and peeking down at her, he saw her cheeks pink.

"Just pretty good?" he repeated, trying to sound affronted, unable to resist the opportunity to embarrass her further when he found it so adorable.

"We wouldn't want you getting a big head, now would we?" she teased him back, in spite of the fact that her face was almost scarlet, pushing herself up onto her elbows to grin at him as she added, "Besides, you still have a lot to learn."

"Oh really, and who's gonna teach me?" he asked her, returning her grin as he pulled her back down into his arms.

"I'm sure we could figure something out," she agreed between kisses, and it was dark by the time he was ready to let go of her again.

"Can I ask you something?" she said, lifting her head from the pillow besides his so that she could study him better in the dim light.

"Sure," he agreed, swallowing his apprehension. "Shoot."

"Why do you keep looking at me like that?" she asked, her green eyes boring into his, and he stared up at the ceiling, trying to come up with a way to avoid answering her until she answered for him. "You really hate it, don't you?"

"Huh?" He turned to stare at her, confused. "What're we talking about?" Somehow, he didn't think it was the same thing.

"My hair," she explained, biting her lip, and he realised that he still hadn't gotten around to telling her what he thought.

"No," he assured her, afraid of hurting her feelings, and upsetting her already fragile self-esteem. "It's just not… you," he confessed. Half the girls they'd gone to school with were California blondes, with their artificial tans and icy demeanours; the fact that she wasn't was what made her stand out, and attracted him to her in the first place.

She flopped back against her own side of the bed, patting it self-consciously. "Isn't that the point?" she said softly.

It was, he realised, which was the problem. He didn't want her to become someone else; he wanted her to be Kate, his Kate, with her long dark hair, and natural beauty. Too much else around them had changed; he couldn't let her change too. "Yeah, I guess it is," he agreed with a sigh.

Sensing the change in his mood, she shifted closer to him, sliding her arms around him. "It's just hair, Jack," she murmured into his chest. "It doesn't change who I am… or how much I love you."

Seeing how earnest she was when she met his eyes again, he smiled. "You're right, it doesn't," he told her, sweeping the reddish gold bangs aside to nuzzle the skin beneath her ear. "You're beautiful, you know that?"

He couldn't stop the words in time; he felt her tense in his arms, relieved when she didn't push him away. That was something, at least. "I'm sorry," he whispered, filled with guilt for ruining the moment, for forgetting, but she shook her head, lying back down against him to hide the fact that she was close to tears.

"It's okay," she said, "Don't worry about it," but as she closed her eyes, trying to get as far from him as she could, he couldn't help noting how twisted it was that he couldn't tell his girlfriend how beautiful she was without hurting her.

* * *

_They were back in the tent, only this time, Wayne's presence didn't come as as much of a surprise. What worried Jack was that he was almost getting used to it; awake or asleep, the man was never far from his thoughts._

"_Beautiful, ain't she?" Wayne said, nodding towards Kate, unaware that they were watching her just like the first time, only tonight, Jack saw that her back and shoulders were bare. "I don't know where it came from – sure as hell wasn't me._

"_Course it wasn't her mother either – she was never that well put together," he finished, his eyes boring into her, almost as if he were trying to see what lay hidden beneath her sleeping bag._

"_She's your daughter," Jack said, realising as he said it that it was the truth. Somehow he'd always known it; Kate had too. That was why she was always so hard on herself. And him._

_The thought filled him with fresh hatred, and he found himself demanding, "She's your daughter – how can you say that?"_

_Wayne shifted his eyes from Kate, smirking as he waggled a finger to chastise him. "Tsk, tsk – people who live in glass houses… Don't tell me you haven't noticed it too. In fact, ain't you the one who's been screwing her the last three nights?"_

_The idea that he would compare them that way sent a wave of revulsion through Jack. "That's different," he argued, but Wayne just raised an eyebrow._

"_Is it?" he asked, returning his attention to Kate with a lewd smile. "'Cause it sure don't look too different from where I'm standing." His expression darkened with malice as he glanced back at Jack. "That switched off look she gets in her eyes? Like she's not even seeing you? She gave me that all the time when I was alive. I think she was thinking of you."_

_But she wouldn't do that, would she? "I never took advantage of her," he insisted, trying to remember if she really had looked at him like that, like he and Wayne were interchangeable. Was that why she'd been trying to fight him, because when she looked at him, she saw Wayne, and vice versa? _

"_You're just trying to get inside my head." Wayne was just like his father and the marshal; with so many voices rattling around inside his skull, it was a wonder there was any room left for his own._

_Wayne let out a titillated chuckle, wiping his eyes as tears of laughter streamed down his face. "That's right, you were just as drunk as she was that night in TJ. _She_ took advantage of _you_ – just like she took advantage of me," he taunted, and unable to take any more, Jack stumbled out through the flap, dry retching as he fell to his knees in the desert…_

The first thing he heard when he woke was a soft whimpering, and he wondered if he was still dreaming, until he realised that it was coming from Kate.

She was crying in her sleep, trapped in a nightmare of her own; forcing himself to sit up, Jack reached out to shake her awake, recoiling when she flinched, lashing out at him with both hands.

"Hey, it's okay," he told her once she stopped thrashing and it was safe to approach her again, and still unconscious, she let him lift her so that she was half straddling his lap.

"It's okay, I got you," he murmured, stroking her hair as she threw her own arms around him, clinging to him like a child during a thunderstorm. "You were just having a bad dream."

He tightened his own grip, holding onto her as he tried to slow the pounding in his chest. "It was all just a bad dream."

* * *

Next chapter: More on their time in Austin (I promise to try to put in some more fluff!)... ;) 


	17. Chapter 17

Thanks for the reviews. I figured I'd kept you waiting too long again... ;)

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Chapter 17. Don't Cry 

The next morning, Jack waited for Kate to tell him about the nightmare that had left her crying and clinging to him for comfort, but when the subject never came up, he decided not to upset her by pushing.

There was a chance that she was ashamed or embarrassed, and that that was why she was refusing to talk about it; but there was also a chance that she didn't remember, and if that was the case, he didn't want to be the one to remind her.

It was depressing being cooped up in the motel room for hours on end, even if they were supposed to be lying low, so after breakfast, they went for a walk around the city, admiring how quaint and interesting it was when compared to the more urban L.A.

Everywhere they went, there were signs, bumper stickers and tourist paraphernalia proclaiming the slogan, "Keep Austin Weird"; Jack thought he even saw it worked into some of the graffiti on the side of an old theatre.

"I think I like it here better than Mexico," Kate said as they wandered hand in hand along a street of antique furniture stores, "In fact…"

There was a diner on the corner, with a sign in the window announcing that they were looking for staff. "Wait here, and I'll be right back, okay?"

He wasn't sure what to do, so he let go of her hand, and she ducked through the glass door, leaving the bell ringing behind her. He watched with a growing sense of unease as she sidled up to the counter, saying something to the waitress on duty, before she disappeared into the back, returning with a man Jack assumed must be the owner.

To his surprise, Kate slid the band from her ponytail, shaking her hair lose as he approached; he thought she must be afraid of being recognised until she flashed the owner a bright, flirtatious grin, and he gave her an approving once over that made Jack's stomach churn.

He'd seen that look before; Jack wanted to haul her out of there and tell her that it wasn't worth it, but before he had the chance, she reappeared at the door looking extremely pleased with herself as she pulled her hair back up off her face.

"What happened?" he asked her, his voice coming out a little too sharp and accusing in his anger.

"He offered me a job," she explained with a shrug, as if she couldn't see why he wouldn't be happy about this. "He said I could start tomorrow if I wanted."

"He offered you a job without any references?" he repeated, incredulous that she didn't seem more sceptical of this fact, unable to keep his bitterness from showing as he added, "You must have been convincing."

"I was," she told him with a dark look, as if she didn't like what he was insinuating.

"Well they're looking for a couple of people, right?" he reminded her, thinking fast. Aside from the fact that they could do with the extra income, it would allow him to keep an eye on that cradle-snatching lowlife; make sure he kept his hands to himself. "Maybe I could get a job on the grill or something."

"No," she said firmly, and his sick feeling returned. Why didn't she want him working with her? Had whatever Wayne did to her messed her up so badly that she would encourage the advances of a man old enough to be her father to make few extra bucks? It was a dangerous game, one he would never allow her to get mixed up in. He couldn't let her get hurt like that again.

"You can't stop me," he told her, starting towards the door, but she seized his arm to keep him from going in.

"Yes I can," she said, taking hold of both his shoulders and shoving him back onto the sidewalk to force him to look at her. "I can, and I am. You're the smartest guy I know, Jack – I can't let you waste that slaving away in some diner. You deserve more than that."

"But it's okay for you?" he argued stubbornly.

"Yes," she agreed, her tone clipped and matter of fact, her face blank, betraying no sign of emotion.

It didn't make any sense. Nothing did anymore. "Why?"

Her calm façade crumbled then as her lower lip trembled, and she dissolved into tears. "Because no one ever expected me to be anything – not like you."

"That's not true, Kate," he told her, his anger melting as he tried to pull her into him, but she fought his hands off.

"Yes, it is," she insisted, crying harder as she wrapped her arms protectively around herself, creating a physical barrier between them. "It is. You heard Wayne – I'm worthless, just like my mom. Why do you think Sam didn't want me? He could've come back for me, but he never did – he just left me there to rot."

Jack could feel his heart break a little more as she continued to unravel before his eyes, her words cutting deep into his soul. "Your parents splitting up – and Sam leaving – had nothing to do with you, Kate," he argued, but the look she gave him, hard and unrelenting, kept him from trying any harder to deny it.

He didn't want to believe it, but she was right; she was at least part of it; and nothing he could say or do would ever make it better for her. He didn't even know where to start. In her own twisted mind, she deserved all of it: Sam, Wayne, her mom, even what was happening to them now.

"If it bothers you that much, I won't work here, okay?" he said when he finally managed to get close enough to pull her into a hug, crushing her to his chest, as if he thought he could squeeze all of he pain out of her and into himself. If he could find a way to take it from her, he would. "I'll find something else, just don't cry anymore, okay? Please?"

He took a step back so that he could see her face, and she nodded, but she didn't stop, and all of a sudden, he felt like crying too. "Don't cry," he murmured as violent sobs continued to rack her body, kissing the top of her head, and pressing his cheek against it. "We'll get through this, I promise, but I need you to stop crying, okay?"

* * *

I know I said I'd try to include more fluff, but under the circumstances, I just can't seem to make it believable. I'm asking that you don't give up yet, though, because I beat out the next couple of chapters before writing this one, and there's some pretty exciting stuff coming up (I hope): 

In Chapter 18, a couple of weeks pass and Jack and Kate are forced to leave Austin...

In Chapter 19, something frightens Jack into making a decision about their future...

And in Chapter 20, Kate finally breaks down and tells him the real story, not just about the abuse, but about what really happened the night Wayne put her mother into a coma... ;)


	18. Chapter 18

Thanks for the reviews. I know most of you are more interested in "Going Back", but I worked out that there are only 7 more chapters (6 unwritten) of "Hide And Seek" after this one (more than that of "Going Back"), so with the end in sight, I'm trying to get it done so that I can go back to only having to manage one fic: maybe even daily updates. After putting the mission on hold for a few chapters, I'm still trying to figure out how transition back into it smoothly, and then I promise you a new chapter (maybe even as soon as tomorrow!), but in the mean time, I would really love to reach at least 150 reviews. ;)

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Chapter 18. Tony 

In spite of his promise, over the next two weeks, Jack spent almost as much time at the diner as Kate did, watching her over her while she worked, whether she wanted him there or not.

It made him feel like her pimp, or something equally parasitic, sitting there, staring at the classifieds while she ran around taking orders, but he'd seen the way that jerk Tony looked at her, and he wouldn't give him the satisfaction of leaving her alone with him.

Even though the place was just as clean and well lit, and aesthetic as any of the other businesses in the neighbourhood, he hated everything about it: the canary yellow dress, which combined with her new hair colour, made her look sick, accentuating the bags under her eyes; the fact that it ended inches above her knees in way that he could only assume was deliberate; the name on her badge, because he knew it was a lie; the fact that even though she scrubbed it until it was raw, her skin had lost its natural scent, smelling so strongly of grease that it was all he could do to keep from gagging when he kissed it; but most of all he hated Tony, and the way he followed her with his eyes, as if he couldn't wait to get her alone in his office.

He wanted to her to quit, but as she never failed to remind him, the tips were good, and the pay was decent, and with the cost of the room and keeping them both fed, his own money had long since run out.

The thought that this could be their life terrified him; sometimes, when he allowed his mind to drift back to The Plan: college, med school, marriage, babies, he wanted to cry, but it was better than the alternative they were facing.

He wasn't worried about himself anymore; at this point, the thought of getting caught was almost a relief; but he knew she couldn't survive it. She was too fragile, too vulnerable and weak; she'd lost weight during their time on the run, and sometimes, when he held her, he was painfully aware of how easily he could crush her.

How easily anyone could, especially someone like Tony.

"He's a creep, but he's harmless," Kate had told him that morning as she raced out the door for the early shift, when he insisted that she wait so that he could finish dressing too.

"That's what people say about guys like Wayne," he wanted to argue, but she was gone before he could figure out a way to voice the thought without betraying what he knew.

That was how it was with them now: they made love and drifted off to sleep in each other's arms afterwards, but that was where the closeness ended. She still wouldn't confide in him, no matter how many times he hinted that he was there for her when she needed him, and he still hadn't worked up the courage to tell her about the dreams. It was like they were the two separate people they'd always threatened to become, rather than the two halves of the same whole he'd always believed them to be.

She was already frustrated with him for smothering her; reluctant to do anything that would upset her further, and exacerbate the tension between them, Jack decided to take the longer route to the diner that morning, stopping at the post office to pick up the newspaper.

Employers weren't exactly screaming out for high school dropouts, even ones as smart as him, as Kate had put it, but going through it each day made him feel like he was accomplishing something, however small.

Tucking it under his arm, he made it to the counter before he discovered that he didn't have enough; setting it down with humiliated smile, he decided that he would have to swallow his pride and ask Kate to lend him some cash until he could figure out how to pay her back.

He was about to slink off when something on the bulletin board behind the clerk attracted his notice.

It was his own face, staring back at him, and beside it Kate's. With an ironic grin, he realised that the police had somehow gotten a hold of their school pictures; they must have plastered them across every bank and post office in the country.

Praying that the woman in front of him wouldn't turn around to see what he was staring at, and sound the alarm, he backed away from the counter as casually as he could, almost running when he got to the door. He had to find Kate, to warn her, before someone recognised them, and they ended up getting arrested.

She was standing at one of the tables near the kitchen, shifting her weight as she waited for a middle aged couple to finish making their order when he raced into the diner; without bothering to excuse them, he took hold of her wrist, dragging her into the corner.

"What're you doing?" she hissed, freeing her arm as she shot an apologetic look at her customers. "Can't whatever it is wait until I'm off duty?"

"No, it can't," he assured her, briefly describing the poster he'd seen. "We have to get out of here – now."

"Don't you think that's gonna look even more suspicious?" she whispered with a furtive glance at Tony, visible through the open door of his office. "What am I gonna tell him?"

"Nothing," he insisted, his heart hammering in his chest as he tore his eyes from hers to see that some of the customers were watching their exchange. "Let's just go."

She wasn't moving fast enough, so he seized her by the shoulders, steering her towards the exit. "What about my paycheck?" she complained. "I don't get it until closing."

"Forget about it – it doesn't matter," he argued, yanking the door open just in time for Tony to look up and see him.

"Hey? What the hell do you think you're doing?" he roared, dropping the ledger he was holding and storming out of the office. "She doesn't leave here until she's finished her shift."

"She's finished now," Jack told him with more audacity than he thought he had until recently, taking her apron and order book and depositing them on the nearest table. "In fact, she quits."

"If she's quitting, then let me hear it from her," Tony said, turning to Kate for confirmation, but rather than back Jack up, she just stared at him with wide eyes, like a deer caught in the headlights, opening her mouth then closing it again. "Lizzie?"

"Trust me – she's done here," Jack assured him when she failed to speak, taking her arm again, getting an inordinate amount of pleasure out of telling Tony where he could go.

"Did I ask you?" Tony said, rounding on him as he stepped between them and the door. "First, I have to put up with you lurking around my diner, harassing my waitress, and now you want me to listen to you while you shoot your mouth off about something you don't understand? I wanna hear it from her."

He fixed Kate with a hard, expectant look and she shrank a little more, as if she thought she could sink into the tiles.

"I…"

"She is not your anything," Jack growled in a voice he barely recognised as his own, shoving him aside as he reefed open the door, but just as they were about to make their escape, Tony slammed it again, wrenching Kate free of his grip as he pinned him up against the glass.

"That's it, you little bastard," he roared, swinging his arm back, and while he didn't say it, all Jack could hear was Wayne's voice crying, _"I'm gonna kill your boyfriend, Katie!"_

Before he could think about what he was doing, he drove his fist into Tony's face, just like he'd done to the marshal, seizing the opportunity to pull Kate out onto the sidewalk when he dropped him to try to stem the bleeding.

"What was that?" she asked him as he broke into a run, weaving his way through the crowd as he propelled her along the busy street, back in the direction of the motel.

"He deserved it," he ground out without stopping to let her catch up, wondering when he'd become so possessive of her. It was the third time in as many weeks that he'd reacted violently after someone showed her unwanted attention.

"Get in the van," he ordered more harshly than he'd intended when they reached the car park, pushing her towards it as he raced back into the room to gather their remaining belongings.

She was curled up in the passenger seat, staring darkly through the windshield when he slid in beside her, her lower lip trembling as if she were trying not to cry.

"I'm sorry," he told her, rubbing her shoulder gently through the fabric of her dress, desperately trying to smooth things over between them. He didn't want her to see him like that; to think that he was like Wayne, that he could hurt her like that. "I didn't mean to yell at you – I guess I'm just a little stressed out."

"Do me a favour," she whispered, turning her head to meet his eyes seriously. "Stop trying to protect me, okay? Please?"

* * *

That night, in the back of the van, in the middle of nowhere, with Kate's limbs tangled up with his, Jack had another dream about Wayne. 

_"You're never gonna get away with it," he said with his trademark smirk as they stood in the desert together, outside the tent, where Kate slept, unaware, as always. Jack wished that just once, she would wake up in time to see him too, but she never did, as least not in his dreams. For all he knew she was having the same one, only he was the one who was oblivious._

_"They're gonna catch you, you know," Wayne continued, and Jack wasn't sure if it was because he was becoming more like Wayne, or Wayne was becoming more like him, but he didn't seem quite as menacing as he once had. "That marshal wants your blood after what you did to him."_

_"I know," Jack agreed,_ and it wasn't until he woke drenched in a cold sweat, his heart slamming against the inside of his rib cage, his breathing ragged as he started into the darkness outside, that he realised that for once, Wayne was right.

* * *

Next chapter: Since it's already written, I'm gonna give you a little sneak peek: 

_She wasn't in the bathroom either when he knocked on the door, so with a sigh, he went back inside, searching for her amid the clutter._

_For one heart-stopping moment, he worried that something had happened to her, that she'd been caught, or taken off on her own, until he found her standing in one of the isles, staring at something with a vacant expression._

_"Are you ready to go?" he asked her, taking hold of her hand to pull her away, following her eyes when she still wouldn't move._

_It was only then that he realised what she was looking at..._

What _is_ Kate looking at, and what does this mean for them? If you want your questions about her (and Wayne) and how this is all gonna end answered, you know what to do... ;)


	19. Chapter 19

Thanks for the reviews. :) There still wasn't as much interest as I would have liked, but since they were all so long and encouraging, and since even I thought that "What is Kate looking at?" thing was cruel, I've decided to answer some of your questions about what's going on with her... ;)

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Chapter 19. Almost A Week

With the marshal still out looking for them, they decided to head north, towards Canada, keeping to the back roads as they crossed over into Oklahoma.

The plan was for them to disappear for a while, to somewhere remote and secluded where the chances of being recognised were next to none. They still had the tent, the sleeping bags, and if it came to it, the van, which was easier to pack up if they were forced to run again; all they needed were enough supplies to last them until they could figure out their next move.

After the incident in Austin, which was sure to have attracted the attention of the police, Jack was reluctant to stop anywhere populated, but by the third day, when they were down to a couple of breakfast bars and a quarter of a loaf of bread, he realised that they had no choice.

Kate had already dropped at least one dress size, leaving her tired and irritable, and thinner than he would have liked; he was afraid that if she lost any more weight, she would get start to get sick, and that was disconcerting on more levels than one.

He waited until they passed a small gas station just inside of Nebraska to turn around, tugging his hat down low as he manoeuvred the van into the parking lot.

"Let's try to be quick," he told Kate, sneaking a peak at the counter, to make sure that there was only one attendant on duty: a middle-aged woman who seemed more interested in the tabloid she was reading than whatever they were doing.

Good.

"We'll meet back here in five minutes," he instructed, and she nodded without comment, disappearing inside as he got out to fill up the van.

She'd been like that since they'd left Texas; quiet and sullen; and even though she'd assured him that that wasn't the case, he couldn't help feeling like she was still mad at him for hitting Tony, and forcing her to leave. At least that was all he hoped it was.

He paid for the gas along with some bread, fruit, and other non-perishables, attracting minimal interest from the attendant, who, to his relief, barely looked up from her magazine, expecting to see Kate leaning against the passenger side waiting for him, annoyed because he hadn't left her the keys, but she wasn't there.

She wasn't in the bathroom either when he knocked on the door, so with a sigh, he went back inside, searching for her amid the clutter.

For one heart stopping moment, he worried that something had happened to her, that she'd been caught, or taken off on her own, until he found her standing in one of the isles, staring at something with a vacant expression.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked her, taking hold of her hand to pull her away, following her eyes when she still wouldn't move.

It was only then that he realised what she was looking at, feeling his cheeks flush pink with embarrassment. "Do you need some?" he asked her, more uncomfortable than he knew he should be given his chosen profession.

"No," she assured him, shaking her head, and he relaxed until her eyes filled with tears.

"Then what's wrong?" he pressed, confused by her irrational behaviour. What girl got upset because she _didn't_ have her period? Wasn't that supposed to be good?

"I should," she whispered, and it was only then that he was able to place her look: it was one of utter despair.

"You're late," he said, more as a statement of fact, than a question, dread settling into the pit of his stomach. She couldn't be pregnant; they were being careful.

"Almost a week," she agreed, and he felt a sudden burst of hope. A week wasn't conclusive of anything. She'd been under a lot of stress lately; they both had; and she'd lost weight. Maybe that was all it was.

"I've never been late – not since I went on the pill," she told him, her voice muffled as she brought her hands up to cover her face, as if she thought she might need to be sick.

Watching her turn away from him in a slow circle, Jack wanted to throw up too. "It's not always one hundred per cent effective," he explained, trying to shut out his own emotions as he switched gears into clinical mode. "Remember? We learnt that in health class. If you forget to take it, or…" he closed his eyes as it came to him how this could be possible, "…or if you mix it with some medications."

How could they have been so stupid? How could _he_ have been so stupid? Hadn't they also been warned that drunken sex, especially without adequate protection, never led to anything good? "That night in Tijuana – you had a lot to drink, Kate, and you were still on painkillers. Were you sick at all afterwards?" He had a vague memory of her disentangling herself from him to go to the bathroom, but he hadn't thought much of it at the time.

"A little," she agreed, but he was surprised to see that she actually looked calmer than she had before he'd suggested it. "You really think we… that night…?"

"I don't know," he confessed, wishing that he were alone so that he could hit something, reaching past her to pick up a box from the shelf next to the ones she'd been staring at. "I guess we're about to find out."

The attendant gave them a curious look as Jack handed over his purchase, shaking her head when he asked her for the keys to the bathroom.

"What do you need me to do?" Jack asked her, handing the bag over to her at the door.

"I don't think you can help me with this part," she joked as she accepted it and took a tentative step inside, slamming it shut with tight, bloodless smile before he could explain what he meant.

He waited for her to come out so that they could get the results together, feeling dangerously exposed as he paced in front of the door, keeping a look out for other cars, but when he glanced at his watch for the fifth time, he saw that almost ten minutes had passed and he still hadn't heard anything.

"Hey, is everything okay in there?" he asked, rapping on the door, pressing his ear to the wood, concerned that she'd chickened out, almost falling into her when it swung open again without warning.

When he couldn't read her expression, he found himself growing impatient. "So?"

"So what?" she asked, stepping down beside him, and for the first time, he noticed that her hands were empty.

"So what happened?" he pressed, deciding that nothing could be worse than the suspense of not knowing, even a baby. Maybe they could scrape together enough money for an abortion, if that was what she wanted, or find some place for her to have it.

She stared at him for a long moment, considering this. "Nothing," she said finally, moving past him.

"You're not pregnant?" he called after her, and she shook her head.

"Nope."

The pressure in his chest began to dissipate, and he felt like he could breathe again, until he found himself getting angry at being shut out like that. "So where is it?" he asked her, jogging up alongside her.

To her credit, she didn't try to play dumb this time. "I threw it away."

"So it should still be in the trash?" he pointed out, starting back towards the bathroom, but she grabbed hold of his shoulders to stop him.

"I flushed it," she amended, pushing against him, her eyes shining with anger as she shoved him in the direction she was trying to get him to go. "That's what you wanted to hear, right? That I'm not? So why don't you believe me?"

Seeing how hurt she looked as she stared him down, breathing hard, he stopped trying to fight her, feeling suitably ashamed of himself.

"I'm sorry," he told her, lifting the cap to scratch at the side of his head. "I guess I just…" but he couldn't tell her why he found it so hard to trust her, so he let the words taper off into silence, following her back to the van.

* * *

Next chapter: Is finished too, so I'm gonna give you another sneak peek...

_"We can't keep ruining our lives, Kate," he told her, waiting for her to get it all out so that they could talk it over rationally. "Sooner or later we're gonna have to take responsibility for what we did."_

_He expected her to say a lot of things, to complain about how unfair it all was, but her next words surprised him. "You wouldn't be saying that if you had any idea what he—" she began, but just as soon as she started, she stopped, staring off into the distance behind him._

_"What he what, Kate?" he asked, his mind screaming with silent frustration. "Whatever it is – whatever you've been hiding – I need you to tell me."_

_She shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself stubbornly. "I can't."_

_"Yes you can," he urged her, growing desperate now that she had confirmed his worst fears by agreeing that there was something to tell._

_"No, I can't," she repeated, and again, he was aware of her coming apart at the seams, but he couldn't let her run from him this time._

_"Why not?"_

_"Because of the way you're looking at me now!" she cried, turning away from him as her body jerked with violent sobs, but he spun her back around, pulling her into his chest._

_"Hey, it's okay," he murmured into her hair, and he felt her go limp against him. "It's okay – I just wanna understand."_

_"You won't," she assured him, but he just held her tighter._

_"Try me."_

Just hit the little greyish button and the rest is yours... ;)


	20. Chapter 20

Thanks for the reviews. :) 44 hits? I should probably be offended, but as always, I'm continuing this for myself and the small group of you who've been nice enough to comment, so, since you're all eager to hear Kate's story, here it is. And yes, it's going to be a sad chapter. I'm sure most of you will have guessed this, but it contains some adult themes... ;)

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Chapter 20. The Awful Truth 

That night, when Kate was asleep, all Jack could think about was how close the situation had come to spiralling beyond their control, escalating into something worse: something irreversible. They were safe, for now; at least he hoped; but it was another reminder that they couldn't live consequence-free forever. Sooner or later, the past would catch up with them, just like Wayne had tried to warn him in his dream.

He wasn't quite eighteen, and already, he felt tired and old, and very young at the same time, like he had the day he'd let go of his father's hand and wandered off at the mall. When he realised that he was all alone, he'd stood there screaming for ten minutes before his father picked him up, and that was how he still felt: small and lost in a sea of unfamiliar faces, waiting for someone to find him again.

Afterwards, he couldn't have pinpointed the exact moment he made the decision, but as the first rays of dawn broke over the mountains, he shifted Kate off of him and climbed out of the van, walking the half a mile to the pay phone he remembered seeing the night before.

Lifting the receiver, he punched in the number he could have dialled in his sleep, slumping back against the glass at the sound of a man's voice, worn and defeated, as if its owner had given up all hope of good news.

"Hello?"

"Dad…" he choked out, and suddenly, he was five years old again, clinging to him as he promised never to scare him like that again.

"Jack?" Christian asked, sounding stunned, and a little wary. "After our last conversation, I never thought I'd hear from you again."

There was something about the combination of sheer joy and relief in his father's tone that broke through the last of his defences, releasing the flood of emotions he'd been fighting for the past few weeks.

"What it is, son? What's wrong?" Christian pressed when he let out a soft, strangled cry, shoving his fist into his mouth to muffle his sobs.

It took him a moment to get himself under control, taking a deep, shaky breath before telling him, "I wanna do the right thing, just like you said, Dad. I wanna come home."

* * *

On the way back to the van, he kept replaying the conversation in his head, wondering if it really was the right thing to do. Kate would never understand; she would hate him for turning his back on her like that, for making a decision without her, even though the one she'd made by refusing to tell him what any of this was for was worse. 

When it came into view, he saw that she was awake, jumping up from her perch on the step to meet him.

"Where were you?" she asked, stopping in front of him, and he had the strangest sense of de ja vu. "I was worried."

"I went for a walk," he told her, knowing that she wouldn't believe him this time.

"I know you, Jack – there's no way you left me alone and just went for a walk," she told him, deviating from the script, as she crossed her arms to show him how unhappy she was.

"You're right – I called my father," he confessed, preparing himself for the full force of her wrath. It was only then, in a sudden moment of clarity, that he realised it didn't matter if she hated him, because she didn't trust him, and without that, her love was worth nothing.

"Are you crazy?" she asked, seeming to misunderstand him, or reject what reason should be telling her. "That's how they found us last time! He's gonna tell the marshal and—"

"I know," he agreed, and she stared at him, stunned.

"You know?"

She didn't wait for him to explain, scrambling back into the van, and shoving things into her pack. "We have to get out of here," she said, glancing around her for something Jack wasn't even sure she could tell him what it was. "We have to—"

He took hold of her arm, pulling her back down so that she was standing on the ground level with him. "No, Kate – I'm not going anywhere," he explained, feeling at peace for the first time in weeks, and when she met his eyes again, he could see the bitter tears forming.

"Why're you doing this, Jack? Is this about what happened at the gas station?" She yanked her arm free of him, kicking at the dirt angrily. "How did I know you were gonna react like this?"

"We can't keep ruining our lives, Kate," he told her, waiting for her to get it all out so that they could talk it over rationally. "Sooner or later we're gonna have to take responsibility for what we did."

He expected her to say a lot of things, to complain about how unfair it all was, but her next words surprised him. "You wouldn't be saying that if you had any idea what he—" she began, but just as soon as she started, she stopped, staring off into the distance behind him.

"What he what, Kate?" he asked, his mind screaming with silent frustration. "Whatever it is – whatever you've been hiding – I need you to tell me."

She shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself stubbornly. "I can't."

"Yes you can," he urged her, growing desperate now that she had confirmed his worst fears by agreeing that there was something to tell.

"No, I can't," she repeated, and again, he was aware of her coming apart at the seams, but he couldn't let her run from him this time.

"Why not?"

"Because of the way you're looking at me now!" she cried, turning away from him as her body jerked with violent sobs, but he spun her back around, pulling her into his chest.

"Hey, it's okay," he murmured into her hair, and he felt her go limp against him. "It's okay – I just wanna understand."

"You won't," she assured him, but he just held her tighter.

"Try me."

She cried a little longer before taking a couple of deep, shuddering breaths, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. He loosened his grip to give her space to pull herself together, and she sank back onto the step, leaving a space so that he could sit down beside her.

"The first time it… the first time it happened, I was eleven," she began with surprising stoicism, though her voice was still shaky, her gaze fixed on some point ahead of them, and Jack had to force himself not to end the conversation there. He'd asked for the truth; he needed to be prepared to hear to it, however painful it was.

"My mom was at work, and he… he came into my room – Wayne – and he just watched me. And I knew there must be something wrong with me, because before he left, instead of saying goodnight, he told me how beautiful I was, and he…" Here she closed her eyes, licking the salt from her top lip, "…Stuck his hand inside my pyjamas."

Incensed that she'd spent the last six years believing that she'd done something to deserve it, Jack opened his mouth to correct her, but she cut him off, looking at him for the first time since beginning her story.

"And I let him. And when he did it again the next night…" She shook her head, as if to erase the memory, her voice breaking as she went on, "Until he didn't just wanna touch me anymore. How could you want me, knowing something like that? How could anyone want me?"

When he tried to speak, Jack found that he couldn't get the words out through the painful lump forming in his throat. "You were just a kid, Kate," he reminded her, fighting back his own tears at the realisation that everything he'd done to protect her, he'd done too late. "You didn't know what to do."

"But I got older, and he kept doing it, and I stopped begging him to stop," she argued, stunning him with how twisted it had become in her head. "Sometimes I think I even liked it."

"You didn't like it, Kate," he told her, horrified that, for whatever reason, she seemed to believe what she was saying. "You couldn't."

"Yes I could," she whispered, so softly that he almost didn't hear her, and he knew that whatever she was about to tell him, she was more ashamed of than the abuse, "because whenever it got too much, and I felt like I was gonna die, I closed my eyes, and I pretended it was you, and it didn't seem so bad anymore. So she was right – I am a whore, because I didn't try to stop him."

"Who was right? Who said that, Kate?" he prompted, swallowing the bile that rose in his throat at her confession. No wonder she was so afraid of him.

"My mom," she explained, and at that moment, he felt like he could have killed her too if she wasn't already in a coma. "She came home and she… she saw what was happening, and she screamed that she wanted me out of the house. She told him she wanted him out too, and that's when he lost it. I couldn't let him kill her, so I jumped in front of her – that's how I got hurt – but there was nothing I could do."

She started sobbing again, and Jack let her go while he did his best to digest this information, suddenly confused as to what he should do with it. For weeks, he'd felt guilty, but now that he knew what kind of man he'd killed, all he felt was rage at the fact that Kate would be punished again for something that was never her fault to begin with. Wayne had ruined her life, and in ending his, all they'd done was make it worse.

"All those times I asked you what was going on… You lied to me," he said, wishing that he'd cracked his skull with that bat the first time he'd met him, instead of sending her home to him night after night, like a sacrificial lamb. He'd made it easy for him.

"I never lied," she corrected him, composing herself, "I just never told you the truth," and he had to fight the urge to tell her that it was all the same in the end.

"I asked you that night and you said—" he reminded her, but she interrupted him.

"He didn't, not then – he never got the chance."

It was a small mercy, but it wasn't enough. "Why didn't you get out of there – go find Sam like you were always talking about?" he asked when it occurred to him that even if he'd known that what he suspected was true, there was nothing he could have done, not when his parents refused to help him.

"I was going to," she agreed. "I had it all worked out – I was going to get some fake papers and disappear, but then we moved to L.A., and I met you. You were the first person who never abandoned me, Jack – I couldn't abandon you."

She smiled at him through her tears; a genuine smile; grasping his hand, and Jack couldn't help feeling an ache in his chest at the knowledge that he was the reason she'd stayed in that house. If he'd known that he was the only thing keeping her there, he would have abandoned her. He would have saved her by breaking her heart.

"So what're we gonna do now?" he asked her, just in case she still wanted to run.

"You were gonna sit here and wait for the marshal, right?" she checked, and he nodded, ashamed.

"We don't have to," he told her, thinking that maybe it wasn't too late. The marshal was probably still a few hours away; they could be in Colorado, or Iowa, or back in Kansas, by the time he arrived.

"Yes, we do," she agreed, curling against him with her head on his shoulder. "You were right the first time – we can't keep running forever. We can't keep letting him ruin our lives."

* * *

Next chapter: The marshal arrives (and before more of you go giving up on me, I will tell you that I've sketched out the last chapter, and it involves Jack and Kate in a dorm room. I won't tell you when, though, or under what circumstances)... ;) 


	21. Chapter 21

Thanks for the reviews. I'm glad I didn't freak anyone out with the last chapter. I tried to make it as tasteful as I could. Only 4 more chapters left after this one, so please, please review... ;)

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Chapter 21. Let's Go, Kiddies 

With the separation they'd been dreading looming, they were desperate to be as close to each other as they could for as long as they could, so they climbed back into the van and undressed together for what Jack hoped wouldn't be the last time.

He was hesitant to go too far at first, after the close call they'd had the day before, but Kate urged him on, whispering assurances against his lips.

"It's okay – you can't get me pregnant," she told him, in between frantic kisses, which seemed like a strangely confident thing to say when hours earlier, they'd been worrying about just that, but he pushed the thought out of his head, determined to savour the moment.

In spite of his vow not to give up hope, he found himself taking in everything this time, filing it away, in case he never got another chance to be with her like this: the taste of her lips, the scent of her skin, the soft sigh of contentment she let out as she buried her face in his neck afterwards.

He didn't know what to say to her, or even where to start, so he just pulled her close, stroking her hair, until she lifted her head with a tentative look.

"Jack? There's something you should know…"

All the muscles in his stomach tightened, and the languid exhaustion he'd felt moments before left him as he scrambled into a sitting position. "Oh God, Kate – don't tell me there's more," he said. "Tony…?" but she pushed him back down again.

"No," she assured him firmly, and when he searched her eyes, he saw that she meant it this time. "He tried to grab my ass a couple of times, but he did that to all the waitresses… No, I just…" she turned away from him, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth as her own eyes filled with tears. "This is really hard…"

"Whatever it is, Kate, we'll deal with it together," he told her, wrapping his arms around her and settling her back against him as he racked his brains for any other secrets she might be keeping from him. She said she wasn't pregnant, but she wouldn't lie to him about something that important… would she?

"I just… I wanted you to know that whatever happens, I'm not sorry for any of it," she rushed on, and he relaxed to hear that that was all it was, smiling into her hair. "Especially you."

She wove her fingers through his, bringing them up to her lips so that she could kiss each of his fingertips. "You made me feel like I couldn't be all bad or wrong if someone like you could love me," she confessed, her eyes still on their entwined hands, and he felt himself getting emotional too at the idea that she could ever think herself unworthy of him.

"It wasn't hard," he told her, his voice low and hoarse as he tried to keep it from breaking. "You might not know it, but you are beautiful, Kate – inside and out."

She didn't reject his words this time, leaning in to kiss him sweetly. "I don't wanna go to prison, Jack – not unless I can take you with me," she whispered when they withdrew, resting her forehead against his. "I love you so much."

"That's why I need you to promise me you won't lie to protect him," he told her, pulling back to meet her eyes seriously. "Promise me you'll tell them everything you told me."

"Okay," she agreed, closing her eyes and curling against him, and once again, he was left with no choice but to trust her.

* * *

Jack could only imagine what the marshal would say if he caught them in bed together, especially after all of his comments about knowing Kate's type, so as the minutes ticked by, he forced himself to let go of her, and once they were both fully dressed, they returned to the step, huddling together while they waited for him to arrive. 

The stress of the past few days seemed to be taking its toll on Kate; by the time the sun reached a midpoint in the sky, she was drowsing against him, her head lolling on his shoulder. He thought about using the opportunity to shift her into the passenger seat and take off, even if it meant fighting with her about it when she woke up, but he was tired of running. He didn't even know where he would go.

He was still sitting there holding her, watching her sleep, when he heard the crunch of gravel up ahead, glancing up to see the marshal get out of his car, advancing on them with his gun at the ready.

"Long time no see, Shephard," he said when he got close enough to speak, causing Kate to stir, and while his nose had all but healed, Jack could see that the bridge was still slightly crooked.

"Is that really necessary?" he asked warily, nodding at the weapon. "We turned ourselves in."

"Can't be too careful," the marshal agreed with a smirk, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket with his free hand, and withdrawing a set of cuffs. "That's why I want her to cuff you."

Still waking up, Kate stared at him as he shoved them into her palm and stepped back, glancing over at Jack wide-eyed and helpless.

"Come on, Jack – it should be fun," the marshal taunted him, seeming to derive some kind of sick pleasure out of using them against each other. "Being tied up by a beautiful girl like that – isn't that every teenage boy's fantasy?" His eyes flicked over to Kate with a lewd smile. "I know it was mine."

At that moment, all of Jack's fantasies revolved around breaking his nose again, but he was the one with the gun, so swallowing his anger, he returned his attention to Kate, nodding to let her know she should do what he said. Then he stood with his back to her, placing his hands together to make it easy for her, his eyes burning into the marshal's as he felt the cool metal click shut around his wrists.

"Tighter," the marshal ordered, waving his gun, and Kate obeyed, her lips brushing Jack's ear with a whispered "Sorry" as she released him.

Once it was done, the marshal relaxed, sliding his gun back into its holster. "Good girl. Too bad I have to do this," he said, taking out a second set of cuffs, and Jack had no choice but to watch, helpless, as the marshal forced her to her knees in the dirt, wrestling her into them, her eyes never leaving Jack's.

"She would've come with you," he told him angrily as her face crumpled, and she started to cry, wishing his arms were free so that he could put them around her.

"I forgot you were the mastermind behind this little operation," the marshal said with an ironic grin as he took hold of her bicep, and hauled her back to her feet.

"Y'all know why we're here so let's just skip the formalities, and get straight to the good part," he continued, and as he began to rattle off their list of rights, Kate looked to Jack for reassurance.

_It's gonna be okay – just remember what I said_, he told her silently, and she smiled at him through her tears.

_I trust you_, she said, just as the marshal finished his spiel.

"Well ain't that sweet?" he said, catching their look, but Jack could hear the twinge of fear in his voice at the idea of them communicating like that. He gave Kate a rough shove towards the car, knowing that wherever she went, Jack would follow. "Let's go, kiddies."

* * *

Next chapter: Jack gets a visit from Christian and his lawyer (But that does not mean he's going to jail!)... ;) 


	22. Chapter 22

Thanks for the reviews. No Kate this chapter, but to make up for it, we do learn something new about her... ;)

* * *

Chapter 22. Confessions

Jack had been sitting in the same hard, steel chair for so long that his backside was beginning to go numb, and he had pins and needles in his legs.

Somewhere, Kate was being subjected to the same treatment; as the officer who had been trying, for the last hour, to get him to make a statement, let himself out into the hall, Jack tried to see past him, to where they were keeping her, but all he could see was more doors.

Slumping back into his seat, he closed his eyes, rubbing his face with his hands to relieve some of the tiredness, until he heard a voice say, "Hello Jack."

Glancing up, he saw that his father had entered the room with a man he'd never seen before; a lawyer, he decided, taking in his tailored suit, polished shoes and brief case. He wasn't sure what to say under the circumstances, so he just eyed them warily, blinking back his surprise when his father drew him into a tight hug.

It didn't last long, and then he was all composure again, making the proper introductions as he pulled a chair up across from him. "Jack, this is my old friend, Ian Jordan – he'll be representing you. Ian, my son, Jack."

They shook hands, and then Ian sat down beside Christian, taking a legal pad and pen out of his briefcase. "So Jack," he began, but Jack cut him off.

"What about Kate?" he asked, remembering the conversation they'd had all those weeks ago. "Does she have a lawyer yet?"

"Yes, I'll be representing her too," Ian explained, giving his notes an impatient shuffle, unfazed by his client's emotional outburst, and Jack met his father's eyes, confused. What was he playing at? There had to be a catch. "As a matter of fact, I just came from speaking with her."

"How is she? What did she say?" Jack pressed, hoping that she hadn't backed out on her promise. With the marshal in the front seat, and then between them on the plane, he hadn't had the chance to talk to her about it since that morning in the van.

"Mr. Shephard, I know you didn't just ask me to discuss another client with you," Ian said, fixing him with a disapproving stare over the rims of his glasses. "What she said is not important – I want to hear your side."

When he looked to his father for support, he gave him a tight, encouraging smile, urging him to listen to Ian, so with a deep sigh, Jack began to relate his version of events.

"The night before… before it happened, Kate came to my house with a busted lip, telling me Wayne had put her mom in a coma," he explained, distracted by the scratch of Ian's pen, immortalising something he'd spent the last few weeks trying to repress. He couldn't look at his father either, so he focused on a point above both their heads.

"She didn't wanna go home, so I let her stay the night," he continued, sneaking a peek at his father in time to see him raise a challenging eyebrow, assuring him that there would be a separate conversation about that later. Under any other circumstances, Jack would have found it amusing, given that all they'd done was sleep; his father should have been more concerned about what had been happening since then, when they'd been sharing a bed without supervision.

"She was gone when I woke up," he went on, forcing himself to transport his mind back to that fateful day. "I waited for her at school, but she never showed, so when I couldn't find her at the hospital, I went by her house. I heard Wayne yelling, and then a crash, so I went to see what was happening – he had her pinned against the bookcase in her room and he was hurting her." He shuddered at the memory, which was even more disturbing in hindsight, wondering what he might have interrupted if he'd been just a few minutes later. Him killing Wayne wouldn't have been an accident then.

"I told him to let her go, but he wouldn't. He was choking her – he twisted her arm out of its socket – so I hit him with the bat to make him stop. He said he was gonna kill me, and then before I could get her out of there, I was on the ground and he was kicking me. I think he would have done it, but I found the bat, and I hit him again, on the back of the head. I only meant to knock him out, but when Kate went to check on him, she told me he was dead."

He was breathing hard by then end, his throat dry, his eyes slick with unshed tears. He felt like he was trapped in another one of his nightmares; like even after he'd given him what he wanted, Wayne still wouldn't let him forget what he'd done.

When he meet father's gaze, afraid of his reaction to finding out that his son was the real murderer, he was surprised to see that mixed in with the expected horror was a kind of deep sympathy he'd never received from him before. He wasn't angry; he was sad, sad that it was happened, and sad to see him so distressed.

"That's interesting," Ian said, sliding a stack of pages from beneath the ones he'd just written on, laying them side-by-side on the table top, "because your girlfriend just said the same thing."

"That's because that's what really happened. I killed him," he assured him, falling silent when the lawyer shook his head.

"What I meant was – she told me that she was the one who killed him."

"She's lying!" Jack argued, jumping out of his chair, throwing his father's hands off when he tried to push him back down. He couldn't believe that she would pull a stunt like that after he'd begged her to tell them the truth. "Can't the police do some kind of test to prove whoever hit him was heavier than her?

"They could," Ian agreed, "but they won't, since she already gave them her confession."

"So tell them to come back, and I'll give them mine," Jack insisted, wishing that someone would let him out so he could go find her. He'd make her take it back.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to advise you against that, under the circumstances," Ian said evenly, and when he met his father's stony expression, he could see that they'd already discussed this.

"Why?" Jack asked, falling back into his chair with his arms crossed when he saw that his request wasn't going to be granted.

"We know about the abuse, Jack," his father said, and Jack felt himself begin to relax at having it all out in the open. At least she hadn't lied about that.

"That makes her defense pretty straight-forward," Ian explained. "There're a number of precedents we can use."

As the knowledge of what he was proposing sank in, Jack realised that, in a strange way, it made sense, but he still wasn't sure that he could let Kate take the wrap for him like that. "If I… If I don't say anything, will she go to prison?" he asked.

"It'll be harder to sell her as a cold blooded killer to a jury, so I would say no," Ian told him, with what almost passed for sympathy, seeming to understand what a difficult decision this was for him. "It's doubtful they'll even let it go to trial."

"So that's it – she just… gets away with it?" Jack checked, wondering if it could really be that simple after all.

"The law doesn't condone murder, even in a case like this, but it does change the rules," Ian agreed, and Jack sensed that he was about to present him with the catch. "I'm going to argue that she wasn't in her right mind when she killed him—" Here Jack cringed at how wrong the words sounded "—which means she'll probably be required to submit to psychological testing to prove it."

"And if they decide she's telling the truth about what Wayne did to her?" Jack pressed.

"She won't go to prison," Ian allowed, "but since she still committed a crime, the courts will most likely order that she spend some time in a psychiatric facility, getting treatment, before being released back into society."

It all sounded so official, so clinical, so unconcerned about the fact that this was a teenage girl's life they were gambling with. "So basically, you're gonna say she's crazy?" Jack repeated in the most blunt way he could think of, earning himself a sharp look from his father.

"Would you mind giving us a moment, Ian?" he asked, waiting until Ian left the room to return his attention to Jack.

"I know you're too close to see it, Jack, but Kate is a very sick girl," he began, and Jack let out an exasperated sigh. Trust him to take his side when he thought it would help him get Kate out of their lives.

"I was… concerned, the first time you brought her home, so I asked a friend to do some digging," his father confessed, his words filling Jack with outrage. Digging? What he'd done was a background check; the same kind the police were running on her now. He was about to call him on this when his father asked, confusing him, "Did she ever tell you why she moved, Jack? The real reason?"

"Yeah, she said Wayne owed some guys money," he agreed, thinking he'd ruined his dramatic revelation, miffed when his father eyed him with surprise, as if he couldn't believe that any son of his would be that gullible.

"When Kate was fifteen, she tried to end her own life by swallowing a couple of bottles of pills," he continued as if Jack hadn't spoken.

"Maybe she didn't mean to," Jack argued, shocked, desperate to dismiss what his father was telling him, but he couldn't help remembering her words.

_"Whenever it got too much, and I felt like I was gonna die…"_

Like I was gonna die… Was that what she wanted?

"She meant to," his father assured him. "She told her mother and the counsellor at the hospital that she did it because she was being bullied at school, so her mother decided a change of scenery was in order. As soon as Kate was released, she filed a complaint with the principal, and moved the family here to L.A."

Listening to this, Jack didn't know who, or what, to believe. If what his father was trying to tell him was true, then everything he'd ever thought he knew about Kate was a lie. She'd been at the centre of his life for so long; without her, he wasn't even sure he knew who he was anymore.

"She has a history, Jack," his father finished, softening towards him. "I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted to hear, but maybe it's time you faced the fact that she's not the girl you thought she was."

* * *

Next chapter: Jack comes to a decision about Kate's confession (And we see her again!)... ;) 


	23. Chapter 23

Thanks for the reviews. I know I said Kate would be in this chapter, but it ended up being longer than I thought, so rather than rush their reunion, I've moved it back to chapter 24. The good news is that both Jack and Kate will be in the two remaining ones! ;)

* * *

Chapter 23. Waiting 

Maybe if he saw Kate, Jack decided, everything would start to make sense. He would ask her if she'd really tried to kill herself, and this time when she assured him that it wasn't true, he'd believe her. "I wanna talk to her."

"You know that's not possible, Jack," his father told him, but he wasn't ready to let go of the idea just yet.

"Why?"

"Because the police don't want you to get your stories straight," he explained in the same careful told he'd used with him as a small child. "Do I need to remind you that what we just did is illegal? It's called perjury, Jack."

"So I just have to trust you?" Jack finished to make sure that'd he'd understood him right, losing the tentative grip he had on his temper. "That's convenient."

"It's either this or go to jail, Jack."

It was all too much for him to deal with. "You never thought she was good enough for me," he cried, jumping out of his chair, knocking it over in the process. "How do I know you didn't make all that stuff about her trying to kill herself up so I wouldn't stand in the way of your plans?"

He'd always thought of his father as thick-skinned, cold, impenetrable, so he was surprised to see the hurt in his eyes. "What kind of man do you think I am, Jack?" he asked as he slid a folder from the bottom of the pile, dropping it on the table in from of him. "If you refuse to believe that what I'm telling you is the truth, then why don't you see for yourself?" With that, he pushed himself to his feet and strode out of the room without so much as a backwards glance.

Jack waited until he was gone to sit down again and lift the cover of the folder, dreading what he was about to see. It didn't take him long to figure out that what he was looking at were medical records, specifically, Kate's.

It was true that she'd spent almost three weeks in hospital the month before she'd moved to L.A., and that she'd received counselling while there; turning the page, he found himself faced with a report labelling her as high risk and recommending that she be placed on suicide watch until further notice.

It could have been doctored, but he doubted it; when he tried to dismiss it, a little voice in his head reminded him that his father wouldn't have had enough time to call in a favour like that.

He was still staring at the papers in front of him, trying to make sense of them when the door opened, and his father re-entered the room with Ian.

"If I agree to back her up, I'll still be able to see her, right?" Jack asked, hardly able to believe what he was saying. He felt like he was speaking to them from somewhere far away, like underwater. "They'll have visiting hours?"

He saw them exchange a nervous look, and then his father said carefully, "They will, but I doubt you'll be able to make it."

"Why?" he pressed, realising that there was still something they weren't telling him; something they were afraid to share in case it influenced his decision.

"Because she won't be here in L.A., Jack," his father explained, and Jack felt his heart sink. It was all unfolding exactly like she said it would. "The police managed to contact her stepfather – Sam – and he wants to take her back to Washington with him once this is cleared up."

"Washington?" he repeated. It was worse than anything he could have imagined, all the way on the other side of the country. They'd be lucky if they saw each other at all. "But that's only temporary, right? Just until her mom wakes up?"

His father's forehead furrowed into a deep frown. "Kate's mother won't be waking up, Jack," he told him in a way that implied he should have worked this out by now. "She passed away a couple of days after you left."

At that moment, Jack was struck by the image of Kate being told the same thing by a faceless police officer in a room very much like the one he was in. She must feel so confused and alone; he was the only one who would ever understand what that news would do to her.

"So why does everyone wanna send her away?" he insisted. "She needs me."

His father slipped back into his chair so that they were facing each other, holding Jack's gaze to emphasise how serious he was. "What Kate needs now is her father, Jack – her family," he told him, no longer trying to be diplomatic. "Sooner or later you're going to have to grow up and realise that you can't take care of everything – or everyone. You're a smart kid, but some things are beyond even you."

* * *

Now his father and Ian had put forward their case, there was nothing left for him to do but make his statement, so Ian called the officer back in, and Jack began to tell him what he'd told them. He was going to confess to everything, but when he got to part about Wayne knocking him to the ground, he caught his father's eye, and all he could think of was the file. 

If Kate had tried to kill herself once, she could do it again; as selfish as it was, he knew he would rest easier with her safe on the other side of the country than somewhere where he couldn't protect her. He couldn't be with her every minute of the day; not if he was in jail; and after everything that had happened, including her mother's death, he couldn't be sure that she wouldn't decide that everyone; especially him; would be better off without her.

"I guess she did it to protect me – so that we could get on with our lives. She wanted to make sure he couldn't hurt us anymore," he finished once he'd twisted the details enough to support her story, realising that even if it was a lie, that much was still true.

* * *

After deciding not to charge as an accomplice, the police released Jack later that evening, and he found himself in the car with his father, driving back to the house as if nothing had happened; as if Kate wasn't still sitting in a holding cell somewhere, waiting to be told that she could go home too. 

Wherever that was.

"I'm proud of you – you did the right thing, son," his father told him, clapping him on the shoulder with the same smile he used when he aced a maths test or got a good report at school, but it didn't change the fact that nothing felt right anymore, especially not what he'd done.

That night he ate dinner with his parents while they caught him up on everything he'd missed since he'd been gone, and slept in his own bed for the first time in weeks, but it was as if he was living someone else's life; nothing belonged to him, and he wasn't sure where he belonged either.

* * *

The next day was his eighteenth birthday, but without Kate there to celebrate it with him, it didn't feel any different to the one that had just passed, so he stayed in bed despite his parents' protests, staring up at the ceiling with the phone at his side, waiting for news.

There would be a hearing, his father had told him, to determine whether or not it should go to trial; he wanted to be there to support her, but because she was a minor, and because of the sensitive nature of the evidence, his father said it was unlikely that anyone except those directly involved in the case would be admitted.

Jack was still sprawled on his back on the third morning, contemplating taking a shower, if only to kill a few minutes between bouts of brooding, when the phone rang, causing him to drop it in his frantic state.

Someone downstairs got it before he could pick it up, and a few minutes later, he heard his father call out to him.

"That was Sam Austen," he said when Jack came out onto the landing, raising an eyebrow at his dishevelled appearance. He hadn't shaved in days, and he was still wearing the same clothes he'd arrived home in. "You'd better get cleaned up because he's bringing Kate over to say goodbye."

* * *

Next chapter: Jack and Kate talk about Kate's suicide attempt and their relationship. Chapter 25 will be a kind of epilogue that takes place in the future. ;) 


	24. Chapter 24

Thanks for the reviews. Now on to the reunion chapter... ;)

* * *

Chapter 24. Not Forever 

Jack was still in the bathroom when he heard Sam's car pull up outside, nicking his chin in his haste to be rid of the last patch of the stubble. He didn't want Kate to know that he'd spent the days since her confession turning himself inside out, and she would if she saw how unkempt he'd become.

As he yanked a clean t-shirt over his head, he glanced out the window, watching her unbuckle her seatbelt and slide out of the Jeep. She didn't look any different to the last time he'd seen her, but somehow, she was: smaller and more fragile.

Sick, a voice in the back of his head reminded him; it was official now; but he ignored it as he hurried out of the bathroom and ran down the stairs to meet her.

Her face lit up when she saw him, and he forgot everything else, closing the distance between them and sweeping her into his arms. He could feel their fathers watching them, but all he could think about was how good and right it felt to have her back where she belonged, even if it was only for a little while.

"I missed you," he told her, pulling her closer, resting his chin on the top of her head, and she responded by burrowing deeper into him, her voice muffled against his chest.

"Not as much as I missed you."

He wanted to know everything that had been happening with her, but he wasn't sure how much time they had, so he shot Sam a questioning look, and lifting her head, she did the same.

"It's okay, you just take as long as you need," he told them with a sad smile. "I'll wait."

As he moved around the Jeep to meet Jack's father at the top of the drive, Jack took Kate's hand and led her into the house. It was the first time she'd used the front door since his parents had decided that they didn't want him seeing her, but when he passed his mother on the way up to his room, she didn't bother to remind him of the rules. He was pretty sure that they were only letting it slide because they knew they wouldn't have to put up with her for much longer. She would be gone soon, maybe forever.

It wasn't until he closed the door behind them that he realised he hadn't had the chance to clean up his room. The bed was still surrounded by untouched plates of food that his mother had brought up in an effort to get him to eat, and his sheets were so rumpled that they would need to be washed and ironed before he could make it again.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Kate asked, eyeing the mess with a wary look as he cleared a space for them to sit down.

"Maid's day off," he returned, even though his heart wasn't in it, flopping down beside her with his back against the wall.

"I'm sorry I missed your birthday," she told him, drawing her knees up to her chest, picking at a loose thread on her jeans. "I would've called you but I was kinda… busy."

She tried to make it sound like a joke, but he could tell that she felt bad, so he shook his head. "It's fine, Kate – I don't care about that. I wanna know what's been going on with you. How was the hearing?"

What he really wanted to ask was how she was coping with her mother's death, but he figured that was something he would have to work his way up to.

"It went okay, I think – I'm not in jail," she said with a wry smile, still not meeting his eyes. "Do we really have to talk about it? I don't think I can go through it all again – it was hard enough the first time."

"Well what do you wanna talk about?" he prompted her, frustrated. She'd insisted on coming to see him, but now that she was here…

"I don't know… What's been happening with you?" she asked, perking up for the first time since the conversation had begun.

He could see that, after spending the past few days in police stations and courtrooms, and given the uncertainty she was facing, she was craving normalcy, but he couldn't stop himself from asking, incredulous, "That's it? That's all you came here to say?"

She stopped fidgeting and looked up at him, defensive, her eyes flashing with hurt. "Is there something you think I _should _say, Jack?"

"Why didn't you tell me you tried to kill yourself?" he blurted out before he could think about what he was saying, enjoying her shocked expression.

"How…?" She sighed, throwing her hands up in defeat when he gave her a hard look, refusing to answer until she did. "What was I supposed to do, walk up to you the first day of school and say, 'Hey, guess what? I just got out of a psych ward – let's make out'?"

"You could have told me the other day," he pointed out. "You let me think that was everything."

"Why wouldn't I?" she asked, surprising him. He hadn't expected her to take the high road. "So you could get it into your head that I was gonna do it again?"

"Are you?"

"No," she assured him, her tone firm and decisive, shaking her head for emphasis.

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I don't wanna die, Jack. I did, but I don't anymore. You gave me a reason to live." She flashed him a weak smile, reaching for his hand and squeezing it, and he found that he couldn't stay mad at her. "Wayne's dead – now I just wanna get better so I can get on with my life."

Something about her choice of words, the 'I' instead of the 'we' he'd gotten so used to hearing, triggered a reaction in his brain, and he knew he couldn't deny it anymore. "So this is really happening?" he asked her. "You're really going?"

"Yeah," she agreed, and when he looked at her, he could see that she was trying hard not to cry. "It's all arranged."

"How long?" he pressed, finding it difficult to breathe. He wanted to hold on, but he could already feel her slipping away. There was a distance between them that had never been there before, even through all of the lies and omissions.

"A year, maybe. My dad talked to the doctors, and they're gonna let me finish senior year, so if I work hard, I should still be on track to start college in the fall. I won't be able to go to class, but I won't be behind when I do."

She shrugged, her smile sheepish as she returned her attention to the thread on her jeans. "They say keeping busy is an important part of the recovery process, so the good news is, I won't have time to sit around in my pyjamas talking to myself."

She was trying to make light of the situation, but he knew her well enough to know that she was as resigned as she made it sound. "Are you scared?" he asked her, slipping his arms around her, wishing that he could crawl inside of her and stay there. He didn't want to be separated from her; she hadn't even left yet, and already, he missed her.

"I guess so. I'm trying not to think about it too much," she confessed, closing her eyes and leaning into him for a moment, as if she were trying to memorise how it felt, before breaking free of his embrace. "My dad's waiting – I should go."

She was across the room before he could speak, but she hesitated at the door, reaching into the pocket of her jeans. "Here, I have something for you – to remember me by."

She held her hand out to him, and as he approached her, he saw that it was lock of her hair, long and dark just as it was before she'd chopped it off in Austin, braided into a kind of chain.

"The real me," she added with a wry smile, remembering his words. "You should know, the way I was with you – that was never a lie."

"I don't have anything for you," he confessed, wishing that he could think of something that wasn't stupid for lame, but she shook her head to let him know that she didn't mind.

"You've given me more than you think," she assured him, taking his wrist, and knotting it around it like a bracelet, pushing herself up onto her toes to kiss him.

"Bye, Jack," she said with false brightness when she stepped back, after he forced himself to let her go.

He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, but he knew it would hurt them both too much. She knew anyway; she had to. "But not forever," he reminded her.

She turned back with her hand on the doorknob, watching him for a long moment. "No, not forever," she agreed with a smile.

* * *

Next chapter (The epilogue): Kate returns (with one last secret)... ;) 


	25. Chapter 25

Thanks for the reviews. I'm putting the last chapter up now because I don't know when I'm gonna get another chance, but I'm trusting you all to comment, and tell me what you thought of this fic as a whole... ;)

* * *

Chapter 25. Starting Over

Watching Kate get back into the car with Sam and drive away, Jack felt like he was being torn in two. He realised now why he'd done it: why he'd agreed to run away. He wanted to chase after her, to scream that it wasn't fair, that they couldn't do this to him; to them; but it was too late, so he returned to his nest until his parents insisted that it was time for him to go back to school.

They thought it would help him to move on, but walking those halls without her, listening to people's hushed voices as they gossiped about them only seemed to make it harder; he wasn't Jack anymore, or Kate's boyfriend, he was the kid whose girlfriend went crazy and killed her father.

He was supposed to be getting his life back on track, but even with counselling, he couldn't seem to rid himself of the aggression he'd built up while on the run, and he found himself in the principal's office more than once, defending his behaviour.

Everyone told him he was lucky to be graduating on time, but he didn't feel lucky at all.

Kate wrote to him once, a few days after she left, to let him know that she'd arrived in Washington, but all of his subsequent letters went unanswered.

He tried to cope with her absence by spending time with other girls; even going to the senior prom with one, at his parents' request; but every time they tried to joke with him, or tease him, his mind would flash back on her, and he felt like he was betraying her by letting go.

* * *

A little over a year after Kate left, the last weekend before his sophomore year at UCLA was due to begin, he came home to find his father waiting for him in the living room.

"Sam Austen stopped by earlier," he announced, and Jack froze with his foot on the bottom step, turning to him, confused.

"Kate's dad was here?" he repeated, suddenly afraid that there was a reason he hadn't heard from her in so long. "Is she okay? Did she…?" He shuddered, unable to finish the thought.

"She's fine, Jack," his father assured him. "In fact, he says she's doing really well. They discharged her a couple of weeks ago."

A weight Jack hadn't even known he was carrying lifted from his shoulders on hearing that it was finally over. "If she's out, does that mean I can see her?" he asked, until he realised that she might not want to see him.

"You can go right now if you want," his father agreed, and Jack frowned, until it occurred to him that if Sam was in L.A., he must have brought Kate with him.

"Do you know where they are?" he asked, taking the slip of paper his father handed him. He expected to see the name of a hotel, but the directions were for a dorm he passed every morning on his way to class.

"Looks like she wanted to be close to you," his father said off his stunned look, smiling and clapping him on the shoulder as he got up and left the room.

* * *

Jack thought about waiting a couple of days, to give himself time to process what was happening, but after missing Kate for so long, he found that he was incapable of staying away, returning to his car before he was even aware of what he was doing.

He didn't know what he was going to say to her as he climbed the stairs to her floor, he just knew that he needed to say something, even if it was only goodbye.

The door was open; watching her bend down to rummage through a cardboard box, shoving a lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers moved to the one on his wrist. Everything about her was exactly as it was in his memory: the long dark curls, her pale, freckled features, but she was taller, and curvier; more of a woman than the girl he remembered.

She glanced up when she sensed his presence, grinning as she kicked the box aside, and before he had time to react, her arms were around him.

She was stronger too, he realised, judging by the force of her hug.

"Hey," she said with an awkward grin when she pulled back. "I wasn't sure you'd come."

"I wasn't sure you'd want me to," he confessed, confused at receiving such a warm welcome from her after being ignored for so long.

"Of course I would," she assured him, still grinning at him as she looked him up and down. "I can't believe you're here – I've missed you so much."

"So why didn't you write to me? I wrote to you," he insisted, and her face fell when she saw that he didn't share her excitement.

"I knew you were gonna ask me about that." She glanced over at the other side of the room, biting her lip, just as her roommate came in. "We should go for a walk," she said after a moment, and taking that to mean that whatever she was about to tell him was just between them, Jack agreed. He couldn't blame her for wanting to start over.

She waited until they were on the lawn outside to speak, wringing her hands as she tried to find the right words to begin. "I lied to you," she confessed, meeting his eyes, and his mind spun with possibilities as he wondered which part of it wasn't true: the abuse, Tony, her claim that the suicide attempt was in the past… "That day at the gas station, when I told you I wasn't pregnant – I lied."

Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't that. If she lied about being pregnant, then that meant there was a baby. "Where…?" he choked out, relieved when he didn't need to say anymore.

"They convinced me to put it up for adoption – my dad, the doctors at the hospital… your dad." She stared down at the ground, pressing her lips into a tight line before continuing. "They told me I needed to learn to take care of myself before I could take care of anyone else."

He knew that what she was saying was important, but all he heard was that his father was there, pulling the strings, making sure that nothing would stand in the way of him becoming what he wanted him to be. "My father – he knew?"

"He came to visit me a couple of times," she explained, sinking down on a bench at the side of the path. "He wanted to know if the baby was yours."

"What did you say?" he asked, thinking of all the times his father had been called away on "business" without bothering to tell him that he was going to see Kate.

"I told him I didn't know – that it could be," she confessed with a sad smile. "Don't be mad at him, Jack. He did what he thought was right. He was afraid if you knew, you'd want us to keep it, and we weren't ready. You're always so busy taking care of everyone else – he just wanted to take care of you."

"So was it?" he demanded, ignoring this. Maybe she could forgive his father for taking advantage of her confusion like that, but he couldn't. Not yet.

"Was it what?" she asked, her brows knitting together in confusion.

"Mine? Ours?"

Her eyes locked with his, and for a moment, he was afraid she was going to tell him that it was Wayne who had gotten her pregnant, until she said, "He was never ours, Jack – we just made him."

He felt like a little piece of him had been ripped away on hearing it confirmed. "He?" he repeated, his heart aching at the thought of having a son he would never meet.

"He – Thomas – that's what they called him," she agreed softly, her face lighting up with pride.

"When the…," she stumbled over the word, substituting something less painful, "people who adopted him found out why I was in the hospital, they asked for a DNA test, comparing his DNA to mine. I guess they wanted to make sure there wouldn't be anything wrong with him. The whole time he was growing inside me, I was scared that there would be – that he would come out looking like Wayne, but he didn't. He was perfect." She glanced back up at him with a wistful smile. "I wish you could have seen him."

"Maybe I can," he insisted, his mind racing. If he could convince his parents to let him have his trust fund early, they could take care of their son without having to drop out of college. It wasn't ideal, but they planned to get married and start a family eventually; a couple of years wouldn't make much difference. "You might have agreed to this, but I didn't. I have rights too."

She touched his elbow gently when he began to pace in front of her, refusing to give up on the idea. "Don't do this to yourself, Jack. It's done – it's over," she said, her words filling him with fresh grief when he realised that she was right.

"If you saw the looks on their faces when he was born, and this woman who thought she'd never be a mom held her baby for the first time… It made me feel like it wasn't all meaningless – like there was a reason for everything we did."

"So what do we do now?" he asked, collapsing onto the bench beside her, aware that for the first time in a long time, there was nothing to stop them from doing whatever they wanted. Somewhere along the line, everything had gotten so complicated: there had to be a way to simplify it; to bring it back to what it was.

"We start over," she said, holding her hand out to him. "I'm Kate."

At first, he wasn't sure what was happening, but then, when he realised she was offering him the chance to do just that, he clasped it in his, shaking it warmly.

"Hi Kate," he replied with a grin. "It's nice to meet you."

* * *

So there you have it. I know some of you won't be satified with the ending, so let's just say they started dating again through college, and then the plan happened just like they always said.

Thank you all for sticking with me -- I know it wasn't an easy fic to get through. :) I'll probably be away for a couple of days -- I've got a lot on this weekend -- but then I'll be back to updating Going Back regularly. ;)


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